


Flicker of Judgment

by Kasan_Soulblade



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: AU pre Akzeriuth, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 52
Words: 97,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasan_Soulblade/pseuds/Kasan_Soulblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It began under the earth, where the stone was the sky, from fight to flight, until all was right.</p><p>Save it wasn't, not quite.</p><p>For there were two, two men with the same face, and the fondations of her world would be ripped asunder, by one question, one answer, neither complete.</p><p>She had been shown world's end, her end. Now? </p><p>"Well your Majesty, now what?" Asch demanded. </p><p>Now what indeed? Deviating from Score was damnation, yet she joined the ranks of the damned in an effort to save the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro: Sand logged

Flicker of Judgment

Sand fell; more aplenty than water was in this clime, it mimed the motions of a waterfall, slithering between crack and crevice till it hit the earth and billowed forth a cloud of dust.

It was familiar, and therefore relaxing. Drawing a breath, he sighed in pleasure. Nostalgia tickled at the back of his mind. It was all the more poignant for the recent drama, and the actors in this Score's play added just a touch of irony.

Such irony was delicious; the fare of Yulia herself. More nurturing than water, harder than any blade, it readily cut at the heart.

And all knew that the heart's blood was the most fulfilling liquid of all.

"We could always attack them while their guard is down," Sync suggested quietly, checking the set of his bronze mask with nervous fingers. Much like the falcon, the green-haired boy's hands quaked and shivered as they worked. The boy burned off excess energy with meaningless twitches and shows of fussiness. "The pit is deep; a mere shove on one of the more slender passages…"

"That would be dishonorable," Asch growled, his emerald eyes not even flickering in Sync's direction. They remained rooted on the last retreating foe.

The following silence was not punctured by an expected scathing comment about the foolishness of honor. That made the youngest God-General pause. Curious, Sync looked up at the tallest and most powerful of the God-Generals. Largo was uncharacteristically silent on a matter he usually felt deeply about; his eyes - like Asch's - were fixed upon the slender girl clad in blue and white.

"Largo the Black Lion does not break his sworn word." The large man came out of his daze even as he spoke. He heralded his dropping of whatever morose thoughts troubled him by a slow shake of his head. Dredging up a rueful grin, Largo rolled his shoulders as if shucking off some weighty pack and turned away from the path their opponents had taken in flight. Cropped, graying hair coupled with a thick beard gave the man the illusion of a mane. Add the lionesque look that with the black garb he wore… It was of little wonder why he was christened the "Black Lion" years ago. "Furthermore, an attack on them might kill Ion. The boy isn't above throwing himself in the way of danger to save someone else."

"He's a fool," Sync spat. "Let him die a fool's death."

Grey eyes gleamed with amusement. Largo twirled his scythe in one hand before setting it into its sheath across his back.

"And will the Tempest become a mere Gust, resign to the fate of confinement, and be bound to the Score? For that will be the Commandant's fate for you if you cross him."

For once, Sync had nothing to say, no vehement protest in sparing the life of Ion. It was a first - one the dazed Asch seemed not to notice.

"That girl... Put her out of your thoughts, Asch. She's a princess in her land, far above your grasp," Largo rumbled.

Shaking his head, Asch only smiled. It was a bitter twisting of the lips, illuminated by a touch of irony in the eyes. Flicking a rebellious strand of red from his eyes, Asch chuckled.

"Why... Old man, I could almost say you seem to be interested in her yourself." Though the tone was light, steel was housed in those emerald eyes. "Could it possibly be that the Lion is eyeing this Kimlascan flower for part of his pride? Rather young for you, isn't she, old-timer?"

Blood suffused the cheeks of the Black Lion. With a warning growl, the God-General gripped the staff of his weapon, looking a mere heartbeat away from pulling it free.

"Asch, Largo! Enough!" Sync barked, leaping between his peers with a feline grace.

Feigning disinterest, Asch affected a yawn and stretched. The small scratch on his check burned a bit, and a fresh drizzle of blood crept down his face. It took little effort to act as if the pain of his wound didn't bother him, since it didn't. Asch turned his back on the two of them. He looked with hunger upon the open path which led to the Sephiroth.

"The Commandant's men will be here shortly to secure the area and establish if this is the seal he needs to manipulate," Sync continued. His announcement was met with a nod on Largo's part and a grunt on Asch's. "We will wait a short span, then forcibly evict any who remain on the premises."

"Fine." Asch mounted the crumbling stairs leading to the Sephiroth and looked around the overhang that guarded the building's front from the nonexistent sunshine and elements. It was as dust-choked as the rest of these ruins. Still, that darkened corner would serve... He turned then, turned his back on his allies and leaned against a whole pillar cast mostly in darkness. Ignoring the dust on the ancient building, he closed his eyes. "I'm taking a nap. If anything comes that's too powerful for Largo to kill by sitting on it, wake me up."

Curling into the darkness, Asch bent his knees and set his chin upon them. Wearily tucking his hands under the thick tabard he wore, he felt his hair fall about his face like a crimson screen. Gloved hands worried and twisted at the black shirt under his tabard. It was only with a monumental force of will that he checked his bad habit and made himself sham sleep.

Eventually, their eyes left him. He could feel their regard shift off him and onto other things. Largo told Sync that if the boy would use his fonic arts to heat a stone, he would begin to prepare dinner. A quick argument came up on whether or not they would feed Asch, and it was quickly resolved in favor of the negative.

At that, Asch smirked and lifted his hands. He pressed them against his chest and curled himself over his digits to hide the telltale glow of his efforts….

X

"Are we out yet?"

"No, Luke. It will take us as long to get out as it did for us to get in." Sighing, Natalia cast an annoyed look at the sulking noble. "Really, Luke, you shouldn't be complaining. Ion has been through so much, and he hasn't said a word."

Instead of shaming the Kimlascan noble into a semblance of decent behavior, Natalia's comment spurred him toward more whining.

"Whaddya mean, I can't whine? I'm not whining, I'm just pointing out what everyone else isn't." Mollified by his own gross leap of logic, Luke toned his sulking down to a grumble. "Tell me this, Nat: isn't everyone else hot, and miserable, and dusty? We're all miserable!"

"And you seem to enjoy wallowing in your own discomfiture and reminding all of us of something that we're trying to forget."

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but a strange tightening sensation on his throat made him stop. He coughed and opened his mouth to try to talk again, but the sensation got worse. He would have waved to get Natalia's attention to his strange dilemma, but his arms felt all heavy, though his legs were working just fine. So he walked on in unwilling silence, silently panicking because he couldn't even scream. As he walked, Luke's panic increased tenfold when he realized his face refused to even twitch in response to his fear. Then his mouth did open, and the words they spoke weren't what he would have ever used.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Natalia stopped. They were already lagging behind the others due to the crisp pace set by the Colonel. The pace's purpose was less military-based and more of an effort to put some distance between the "adults" in the group and Luke. Natalia had allowed herself to fall behind, constantly casting strange, bewildered looks into the darkness behind them as if it would suddenly offer an answer to her unspoken question. Now she was completely jolted out of her thoughts by Luke's most surprising statement. She whirled on her heel, eyes wide, face slightly flushed.

"You…. What?"

"Jeez, Natalia, can't I say I'm sorry every now and then?"

Natalia blinked, her expression saying louder than words that she thought the world must be ending. Luke never apologized for anything - not since his capture years ago. He stared at her, emerald eyes wide, guileless, but… somehow wrong. The once carefree orbs were darker, more somber, somehow…

"You once told me… that a noble never apologizes. Ever."

Luke smiled at her, then shrugged. It was a Luke-like gesture, but it seemed strained somehow.

"Sorry, but you know how Father is, and… he was right there."

And there he was, apologizing again. So unlike him, almost humble and amused at himself for being in the wrong; it was a completely alien behavior for Luke to be pursuing. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she set her hands on her hips and looked at Luke long and hard.

"Who are you and what have you done to Luke?"

"Hey, don't talk like that!" Lifting his hands as if to ward an invisible blow, Luke smiled. It was a small, guarded thing that barely curled the edge of his lips. "You'd think I was a jerk or something!"

"Well, sometimes it could be said that you are." Thoughtfully, Natalia tapped her lower lip with a slender finger. Then she smiled, her hazel eyes acquiring a wicked glint. "There are times-" She continued taking a few steps forward. He matched every one of her steps with one back, "- spans, I should say, when you can be grossly insensitive.

Luke stepped back one time too many. His foot nearly slid over the edge of the small walkway. He froze, then his emerald eyes went wide as Natalia cupped the left half of his face with a hand. Luke cringed from the touch, as if in pain, and then relaxed as if remembering that he wasn't supposed to be in pain. Curiosity satisfied, Natalia dropped her hand and walked away. The motion was so fast that Luke looked a little dazed.

"You aren't Luke. You are that other... person. That man who looks like Luke."

Luke's voice grew hard, harsh. A mirror image of Asch's. "And if I am? Then what, Your Highness?"

"Then nothing," Natalia answered. Her voice shook, though, showing her facade of unflappable calm to be just that: a facade. "You aren't here to hurt us. You could have back there." Natalia waved a hand to indicate the god-general's current abode. "You haven't, though I must say your... subverting of Luke against his will is rather beastly."

"Desperate times, Natal. I'd rather not be using this... thing at all." Luke waved to himself... no, to Luke's form, his expression one of complete disgust.

Natalia stiffened, not at the show of bitterness, but in realization. She looked upon the Luke who wasn't Luke with wide eyes.

"How did you know to call me that?"

"Natal?" Asch caused Luke's lips to curl a bit more. He shrugged. The abrupt motion was so unlike Luke's customary lazy roll of the shoulders that anyone could have told them apart. "Let's just say... I know more about you - and Luke - then you would probably like. I'm not here to rehash the times, though. We need to catch up."

Luke - or more likely, the man who was controlling Luke - nodded to the path behind them, his face grim. Catching his meaning, Natalia shivered. Darkness pierced by twisted beams of light from the surface illuminated the path ahead. It showed the princess of Kimlasca what she did not want to see: no one had waited for them. Not even Guy had bothered to linger discreetly out of earshot.

As if eavesdropping on her thoughts, Asch forced Luke's lips to twist bitterly.

"Nice group of people you're traveling with. A warm, affectionate bunch."

_X_

_From dark to light, they ran. Anise huffed and puffed at the effort of lugging the sand logged Tokunaga over her shoulder. Not even breathing hard, the Malkuth colonel crossed the final bend, easily outstripping the weary fon master guardian by virtue of his longer legs. Luke was in the lead, Guy right beside him, and a resolute Tear only a step behind the servant._

_Perhaps it was her imagination, but Tear's immediate presence was making Guy run a little faster._

_Holding the rear, weighed with arrows and a long bow that she had tripped over five times already due to her unfamiliarity with it, Natalia wondered somewhat morosely if there was sand getting into the quiver. She decided to tip the thing over and pour it out when it next became prudent._

_That time, however, wasn't going to be any time soon. Three figures stood around Ion; they wore black, and the emblems of the Order of Lorelei were stitched upon their clothes. It was only when she saw them cast in red upon the black background of Asch the Bloody's it occurred to her that they looked like hearts. It was almost as if thier enemies were figures cast from the dark heart suit. The Warrior King suited the man with a lion's mane; the Jester for the green-haired boy whose odd clothes were almost comical. Comedy clashed with anger and was dispelled, for the green haired boy's rage banished all humor._

_As for the man with red hair... Natalia would have picked the Lord's Son card for him._

_The last was the easiest to pick, and perhaps just a touch chilling in its irony. Now that they were so close, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart._

_"Give back Ion!" Sword out, Luke decided to forgo any diplomatic measures and just attacked._

_"Don't you ever say anything else?" Drawing the startled Ion to his side, Asch drew his black sword. "Damn it, don't let them through!"_

_But it was too late; Largo and Sync closed ranks a breath too slow. Guy and Luke were through. Tear's advance was stopped by the lion-haired man's downward swing of his scythe. Blade crunching into the earth a mere millimeter in front of her nose, Tear skidded to a stop and leapt off the flat of the massive weapon to put some distance between herself and Largo._

_"Mistress Cantor Grants," Largo rumbled. "Put down your weapon."_

_From behind, the clash of steel on steel told them all Asch was taking on Luke and Guy. Dropping into a crouch, Natalia pulled a blunted arrow from her quiver. She would not strike to kill; these people were only misguided, after all, but she would strive to disarm them. Perhaps some peaceable agreement could be made..._

_Jade heaved a sigh upon seeing Sync slip around Largo, a knife in his hands. The Colonel drew his spear from nothingness and cast it as Sync's feet. The explosion of the spear's fonon discharge threw the lithe god-general from his feet._

_Tear drew back her arm to throw, but the brunette's attempted attack - the move was unfortunately like throwing a pin needle at a mountain - was answer enough. Largo wrenched his arms back, and with a mighty surge of strength knocked Tear off her feet and threw her back. The knife hit the dusty ground with a muffled clatter._

_That was Natalia's signal; releasing the string of her bow, she cast her first arrow into the melee. The impact jarred Largo's weapon, causing it to dip. The monumental force behind the blow plus the small interference was enough; the attack that would have sheared through Tear as if she was nothing came in too fast, too low, and its momentum carried Largo off course from his target. Blade bit once more into earth; the effort was wasted..._

_Save that now Tear, seeing the complete ruthlessness of her adversary, was pulling back step by cautious step, giving Largo all the room he needed to swing his scythe around._

_Ahead, from the half-crumbling steps of a forgotten city there was the clash of steel on steel. Asch the Bloody was fighting Luke and Guy, and by Guy's curses the god-general was holding his own against them both._

_Largo lifted his blade in a guard; one twist of his wrist allowed him to bring the blade up in time to block another blunted arrow. Yet another knife cut through the air and clanged against his armored side, doing little damage. Ignoring Tear, the Black Lion looked to Natalia and smiled._

_"Mercy, Princess? Do not demean your foes with such hollow sentiments."_

_X_

_"_ I could say… less of… the… people you… travel with," Natalia sniffed. Or rather, she would have liked to. Her words were more like hard gasps, and the subtleties that she liked to pepper her language with were impossible at the harsh pace Lu- no, Asch was setting. Running and talking, she was fast to learn, were very difficult to do simultaneously. Later, she would wonder if that had been intentional - that Asch didn't want her to talk, so he forced her to keep pace with him. At the present moment, though, all she felt was exhaustion, weariness; but mixed with that was the fear he'd leave her alone in this dust-choked darkness.

Asch, using Luke's mouth, managed a weary grunt. He was clutching his side, looking chagrined, and when Natalia nearly passed him on the most recent turn of stairs, he reached out with a shaking hand to stop her.

"Have to rest..." he croaked.  "Dreck... isn't as… fit... as I am."

Natalia bit her lip, but said nothing, allowing her weary legs to buckle. She caught herself before she got hurt, twisted a bit so that it was a more controlled fall so that she hit the ground in a pose more proper for sitting. Emerald eyes watched her descent, but their owner, true and artifice, said nothing.

"It must be hard on you and Luke, for you to be controlling him like this." Silence was his response to her statement. Perhaps Asch offered her a mute glare for her audacity; perhaps he was merely using the time to gather his breath. Having closed her eyes, Natalia sighed and set her chin on her tucked knees. "Why can you not tell me what you wish to say, and I will convey it to the others? Why not merely say what you wish to say through a note or some less exotic means than this rather sadistic-seeming dominance?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"I find it difficult enough to believe you now," Natalia admitted with a weary shrug. She turned her head and opened her eyes, all to better look at the Luke who was not Luke. "To be more honest, I find it impossible to believe in your so-called peaceful intents when your methods are anything but."

"Believe as you will." Asch snarled his reply, his tone a morass of emotion. Confidence, wounded pride, faintly veiled power…

Terror, though, glimmered in those eyes, and the terror wasn't Asch's. It was Luke's. Natalia knew it. And for knowing, she shivered.

With a quiet growl, Asch forced Luke's hand to stop pressing against the side that had stitched up in pain. A few deep breaths drawn by lungs that weren't his were enough to regain some small measure of stamina.

"We have to go. Can you walk?"

Natalia managed to stand, managed a nod. She would not, dared not, appear weak against someone as ruthless as Asch the Bloody.

"Good. We need to move on." He turned then, faced her. And though the expression was amused, the amusement was forced, and the terror in from the original owner was present - if frozen - within the depths of emerald eyes. The unconscious, animal fear that Asch was unaware of made a mockery of whatever emotion Asch was trying to convey through Luke.

Oblivious to Natalia's thoughts and observations, Asch smiled at her.

"We've little time, so while I escort you back to your friends we will talk, and you will do what I say."

From somewhere, Natalia found her courage. Though tired, strength came to her and she gathered it about like a cloak. "And if I don't?"

"Then Sync would like that." Asch the Bloody said the last with a grim smile that suited Luke like water would a cat. "He would like that very much."

To Natalia's involuntary shiver, Asch reached out, perhaps to comfort, to soothe. Luke's hand settled on her shoulder. The gentle pressure the man's grip exerted should have comforted. Quietly, Natalia shrugged off the grip and checked her quiver, all the while pointedly ignoring Lu- Asch...

"Yulia forefend we make this... Sync of yours happy," Natalia managed, with scarcely a stutter to betray her nerves. Before Asch could do anything else, the Kimlascan princess stepped around him, giving the man who was and was not Luke as wide a berth as she would have a rabid wolf. "Shouldn't we be hurrying?"

Stone was more expressive then Asch when he willed it, save for his eyes. For years Van had harped at him to learn some control, for "the doors to his soul" - as some called it - always betrayed him. Now, locked in a paralysis of terror, he could not longer give away his own thoughts, even if he wanted to.

"You're right." Luke's head nodded, driven by the will of a man he didn't know. A man who somehow knew everything about him and Natalia. "Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2;  Perhaps Bronze

A flicker of judgment

Chapter 2

They ran, the whole of Auldrant between them. With whoops and giggles they ran round and round, the details of places blurring in their play. Gripping the edges of six thick bars, each the color of different fonons, he hollered.

"Can't catch me!"

His play mate, curled locks damp with sweat, teeth flashing in a broad smile, only laughed. Never one to admit defeat. To that he laughed and gained, and for a while _he_ was chasing _her_ around and around. Then, it was his turn to slow, as he caught his second wind, and at that opening she snatched the trail of his red locks, gave a teasing tug. He yelped, picking up speed, indignant all the while. _That_ just wasn't fair _, girls_ weren't supposed to run that fast! Still irritation was lost, and their play wound on, ran on, and as he ran he held tight to those thing threads of metal.

The world spun after them for that.

Another tug on his hair told him it was time to let go, so he did, and went faster for it.

"You get back here!"

"Gotta catch me first!"

At his final pull the whole worlds rather stilted spinning's… changed. It spun madly, roiling and rocking on it's confines. Axels chasing axels. Unaware that Auldrent was spinning in impossible ways, in mad, crazed gyrations that hinted at some subtle breaking, he taunted and she followed.

Their bare feet padded along bronze walkways, along that span that circled a world. Feet flapping, long hair flowing, they ran on and on. Geography lesson forgotten in their impromptu round of "tag", and "can't catch me's" that made their game so fun. Laughing, knowing she shouldn't and not really caring -like she should- she forgot everything save the goal of keeping him in sight. He was too fast, as always. One bend beyond once she got there, perhaps she saw a bit of green as he'd look back (but that was rare, so very rare) and he'd never slowed. Not intentionally anyway.

"Luke, wait for me!"

Her voice, so young, seven and a day, he eight, they ran round and round, oblivious of the chaotic twirling of the world between them both.

A scandalized voice cried.

"Master Luke, your… your _highness_ … You get down there this moment!"

Obedient, both of them skidded to a stop. Gripping the rail, smiling wide and looking down at his Father's head of house, Luke fon Fabre hollered.

"Hi Ramdas!"

"M…" Lips twitching, fighting to remain stern, Ramdas fought and failed at glaring at his young charge. "Master Luke," A choked sound too close to being a snicker for it to be anything else. "This is hardly appropriate behavior for you or the princess to be engaging in."

"Even for our age?" Luke bantered down to his servant. Being a bit older, he knew something about both "appropriate", and "rules", and knew that they could be bent around the edges if need be.

Smiling, indulgent, pseudo anger fleeing in the face of logic, Ramdas sighed. "Possibly. Now get down there this instant."

Ever obedient, they left their play, pacing alongside slick banisters, in steps that seemed regal and serious.

Their shining eyes however gave them away.

With a quiet laugh the servant met them at the stairways base, and once they both were down he pulled them close, held them both tight.

"Are we… in trouble…" Utterly bewildered, for she hardly knew Ramdas at all, Natalia stiffened at the man's fierce grip.

"Only if he starts scolding us again." Luke confided.

Hearing them both, for though one was younger than her years and the other older neither were subtle nor had they bothered with whispers, Ramdas chuckled.

"Next time." Letting them loose, Ramdas smoothed out one child's hair, patted the other's head. Soothing worries without words. There were times, after all, when words weren't needed. "You are to inform the Manor that you are leaving for the Castle, Master Luke."

"Yes, Ramdas."

"And you, your highness, are running late for your geography class."

"Umm.." Looking first to the grinning Luke and the smiling Ramdas, Natalia dithered. They had been doing something _wrong_ after all, and had been caught. But… this didn't sound like trouble, or a lecture, or anything else she was used too. "Alright…"

Turning on his heel, the servant in Fabre livery quietly paced away, using each step to compose his features. Once at the libraries door, he turned. Once more a composed member of house Fabre's staff.

"Come along, Master Luke," extending a hand, the servant waited.

"Coming Ramdas." And though he said coming he lingered a moment, turned to Natalia, face still baring it's wide smile though he stammered something fierce. "Are you… could we… maybe tomorrow?"

Not knowing what she was agreeing too, only knowing he smiled, (such a rare thing, like his looking back) she responded to that smile, never knowing what she was getting into.

"Always. I… I mean, any day that you can come, that you aren't busy..."

And despite sounding unlady like, and un-noble like, she agreed, and he smiled….

And though neither looked up to see, Ramdas was smiling too.

And behind them both, beyond them all, Auldrant spun and shivered, subtly broken yet still turning.

XXX

Snapping up a hand up, he made her stop without a word. Kneeling, he studied the cobbles of a town long submerged. Sand hissed from above, staining the filtered sunlight a dirty brown. By such light he strived to see, green eyes thinned, posture rigid. As for her, her shoulder's ached. Since they were stopped she tipped her quiver, snatching the few arrows in her hand she let sand and a sizable stone -how that happened was beyond her- tumble out.

"Achp.."

Slapping a hand over his mouth, muffling the sneeze at the last moment, Lu- no Asch- glared up at her. He didn't have to say anything, his expression was vibrant, varied, though the spectrum (frustration, irritation) that he drew upon was a bit base.

Smiling as sincerely as Colonel Curtiss, Natalia set her arrows in the now empty quiver and said nothing. To that, Asch glared up at her, patient, waiting. When he caught the finality to her silence he grunted, then snapped a hand over his mouth to muffle another sneeze. Rubbing his nose, than eyes watering, the man known as "the bloody" stood. _My, he seemed almost sensitive to this fine sands_. That thought was also a bit… base, and unclothe besides, but it caused her to smile, just a little bit wickedly.

"Are you done gloating over my discomfort yet?" Asch snapped, irritated, sniffling.

Not liking the man's tone in the least, Natalia simply smiled and let her hazel eyes glimmer with mirth. "My quiver is cleaned out now. The outside however could do with a firm dusting."

"Appease your vanity later, princess." Asch grunted, sparing another moment to swipe at his eyes and snort.

"I've never heard of anyone allergic to dust before."

"Well now you have." Asch the bloody snarled.

Biting her lip to hold back a peal of laughter, Natalia coughed delicately into a fisted hand. Then a thought came to her. This wasn't exactly Asch, per say… It was Luke after all. Asch was merely using Luke was a mouthpiece, brutally victimizing her fiancée for whatever beastly reasons were his own… So, did that mean that Luke was allergic to dust? Realizing that by irritating Asch she was putting Luke through such unseemly straits her laughter fled and a hot flush suffused her cheeks.

Oblivious to it all, Asch the Bloody swatted at his pants, shaking out dust and dirt and trying valiantly not to cough or sniffle.

"I.. apologize."

To that Luke looked up, or rather the man controlling Luke lifted her fiancée's head for him. Expression clean of irritation, he looked at her incredulously, for that one moment it could have been Luke. For that one moment, Luke could have been Asch, or Asch could have been Luke, the expression was that… _genuine._

Checking a shiver, Natalia tried a smile instead, the type that got her through audiences and meetings that were particularly boring and tiresome. It was a reflex, to grin and bare it, something not trained into her by tutors and the like, merely a impulse all her own.

Taking a half step back, hands clasped behind her back, Natalia swallowed. Green eyes glimmered, locked in a rigid facade of fear all their own that was eerily disassociated with the speakers own manner. He gazed up at her, green eyes glistening, trapped, tortured...

Looking way, resolutely studying the ground at her side, the princess of Kimlasca Lanvaldear continued.

"I should not be playing on your weakness, nor teasing you. Both actions were rather… cruel, and for that I apologize."

Looking to her, only her, tracks and trails forgotten, Asch the Bloody opened Luke fon Fabre's mouth, closed it, then opened it again. No words tumbled out, not a sound at all.

Finally, in a tone half pain, half something else, he managed. "And to whom, princess, do you apologize too?"

"To… well… both of you, of course."

Cracking a small smile, a cynical curl of the lips, so small that she could scarcely see it -but it was expected, that snide slant, almost anticipated- Asch the Bloody snorted.

"Pft of c.. cour.."

His sentence and its accompanying snarkiness were felled at the force of his sneeze. To that, and the non-pulsed look on the man's face, Natalia couldn't help herself. She laughed, not even bothering to try to make it look like a cough this time. Snarling, indignant, Asch glared up at her. Then, as her laughter went on and gently wore on his facade of indignation, Asch's lips quirked into a smile. This one was a thousand times better than the last, for it had little acid to it, only a ghost of bitterness.

"It's not that funny, damn it."

Her laughter, growing louder, told him that yes, actually, it _was_ that funny.

"For the love of Yulia," -a cough, a barely averted sneeze if he'd ever had one- "you're exasperating, you know that?"

Natalia only laughed harder.

"Oh, come on!" Snatching her hand in his own, Asch closed Luke's fingers over her own, all but dripping exasperation. "We're leaving!"

With only a light tug on her wrist to usher her his way, he lead, and she followed, pacing down cobbles and eventually down steps that seemed, in the uncertain light, to be made of brass. Or perhaps the dark hue was copper, or perhaps bronze. Whatever it may be, it was made more precious for the shaky quality of their illumination. Still sniggering, eyes dancing -as did his, a quick glance back on his part showed her that his did too, present restrictions aside- they padded down the stair well, hand in hand. Shadows smoothed the nicks and burs along the way, in their black folds quietly taking the edges from their sight as they descended.


	3. Chapter 3: Chasing Monsters

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 3

Chasing Monsters

They had been abandoned. The others it seemed were all too willing to forsake them for a few moments peace. The realization was slow in coming, and its slowness was based in the fact it was a most unwelcome observation. It sent a shiver down her back, though the shiver did nothing to slow her pace it did not pass unnoticed by those strange yet familiar emerald eyes. Oblivious to Asch's intense scrutiny, Natalia continued to muse on her own thoughts in silence.

While Luke certainly was abrasive from time to time that could not be the cause of this seemingly abandonment, could it? It was possible, no one but Guy was familiar with Luke. The others were outsiders, one of them even haled from Malkuth. Yes, she realized even as she walked, being abandoned was a possibility. After all, Malkuthites were a notoriously cold people, obsessed with practicality. Luke, who had a perchance for being illogical must be extremely galling to someone cut of that cloth.

And those of Daath, they were much like the Malkuthites in their regard of restraint and control. How the people from either nation truly lived was a wonder. With restraint and control being the cornerstones of their lives, it made her wonder... Malkuthites must live in a horribly suffocating culture.

A quiet oath broke the Princess out of her thoughts. She turned, and nearly chuckled at the sight. Small falls of dust were common in the ruins, and L- no Asch had unwittingly walked right under one. Grumbling, the man controlling Luke had come to an abrupt halt. Making a hand that wasn't his rake through the orange tinted hair, Asch the Bloody spent a long moment shaking out hair that wasn't his.

"It would probably be for the best if you stepped aside, that way you do not gather more dust."

Luke's expression twisted into one that might have been curiosity. But considering it wasn't how Luke normally showed his curiosity –a brightening of the eyes and tone, a kind of chirpy attentiveness- Natalia wasn't sure. Before Asch could say anything however there came a faint hiss from above. More dust fell, and Luke said a word that Natalia was fairly sure Luke didn't know. Actually, "said" was far too mild a word, shrieked might have been more accurate. Natalia giggled into her hand as her companion hopped almost a foot in the air. Dancing in place on the small walk way, Asch shook and plucked at Luke's garments, trying to get the sand out.

Who'd have thought a god general was so fastidious?

X

_The sweeping blows were best for beasts. The glint of a blade catching light, the broad motions, those deterred animals. For they speak of confidence and the outré._

_Against man though, such tactics are weakness. Grandiose begs a thousand openings; the flash of light on steel is little more than a warning._

_Those words were from elementary lessons. They took the place of childish rhyme, those hard, harsh, facts. But because of them he was a better soldier. Much better than them. Shoving the man who could be called his twin by the ignorant, Asch sneered. An uncoordinated child could have avoided stumbling down those stairs, but his replica was worse than that. Luke tumbled head over heels, his descent ended only when he smashed into Largo's broad back. With a growl the massive god general whirled, his scythe held over head._

_More melodrama, Asch snorted. One idiot with a bow could dispatch the Black Lion..._

_As if his thoughts were an omen there came a twang. The sound was discordant, cutting through the rise and fall of fonic chants like a hot knife through... Speaking of knives, Asch whipped his blade around, caught Guy's attack and grimly gave his former servant a sharp kick to the loins. Another kick -this one delivered to the head- sent the servant tumbling down the stair after his master._

_The son of Gardios was almost as pathetic as Asch's … other, shaking his head at the irony of it all Asch moved to sheath his sword. The way these children fought Largo and Sync wouldn't need his help anytime soon. He'd expected more of a challenge, really, but considering how defective replicas were he wasn't too surprised. Disappointed yes, surprised no. A cry of pain from Largo made the God General snap out of his thoughts._

_The fighting stopped at the man's bestial roar of rage. The brown clad woman, Mystearica Grants easily backpedaled out Largo's formidable range, her eyes were wide in fear. Sync froze and for his lack of motion lost concentration on his fonic arte. The spat of universal shock hardly deterred the Necromancer though. He released his arte with a sharp gesture and sent the spry God General flying. But then, when the earth bucked and heaved, what could you do save go flying? Powerful hands made of burlap sheathed fluff went limp as their owner was also struck by the cavern wide surprise. They had once been clenched to batter the aerial god general aside. It would have been a perfect complement to the Malkuthite's spell, now, however, surprise robbed the limbs of their power and the moment was lost._

_Sync hit the earth with a dull thump, and while the sight might have raised a smile to his lips at any other time Asch the Bloody was riveted in place by shock. They all stared at the arrow, it was of Kimlascan make, and was painted a familiar crimson. The color better hid the blood upon its shaft. Like an accusatory finger the arrow stood, pointing with startling clarity at the white and blue clad woman who'd stood in one of the few pools of sunlight within the ruins. Asch stared at her; a different kind of shock melded his feet with the stone floor. Her hazel eyes, sun gold hair… so familiar, his soul ached at the sight of_ her _. And he felt something within him shrivel up and die when Largo reached up with humongous hands and ripped the arrow free._

_The man's steel hued eyes promised bloody murder, and that murder was well within his rights to make._

X

She cast Asch a look from the corner of her eye, and was startled to see his gaze was focused on her. The intensity of him was alarming, and just not because the man's eyes were locked in a chilling paralysis of terror.

"There's sand trickling out of your quiver." Asch noted coolly, voice stiff, as if holding in a sniffle.

With a sniff, Natalia shifted the quiver on her back. She pointedly ignored the tickling sensation that ran down her spine. Ignored the fingers of dust and coolly met his gaze. It was Asch who looked away first, dropping his eyes with a wry smile curling his lips. At first he studied the stone floor to avoid looking at her, but Asch's expression quickly became both grim and intense.

"Drag marks. Blood." He explained shortly, using one pale hand to point.

She looked down, spied smears of fresh red and something long oily and black. Such obvious signs spread out at her feet... she wondered how she'd missed them before.

"Your friends..." He hesitated over the word, nearly choked on it truth be told. "They kill something around here? Recently?"

 _Not when I was traveling with them_. The words went unspoken but were clearly written upon her face. A quick glance and the God General who was controlling Luke read it all. He grunted, only that. It was an annoyed sound that held no warmth or compassion. Well, if he didn't care she had more than enough concern in her for the both of them! Oblivious to her state of growing concern, or more likely indifferent, Asch made Luke's knees bend. With a bare hand he scrapped up some of the blood, set it to his lips, and then spat it out in disgust.

"Acidic... Monster's blood, it's still red so it's fresh."

"Human blood is red too." Natalia protested.

"It is." Asch agreed, wiping at his borrowed face with the back of a hand. "But monsters are made differently than us. Human blood... it congeals, rusts... It turns rust brown because it's made of iron, and that iron decays. Most monster blood turns a slimy black because it has an odd acidic oil that turns black when it decays." Seeing Natalia's disbelief Asch made Luke's eyebrows rise to convey amusement. "Tastes absolutely wonderful too. If you doubt my judgment there's a bat wing. I wager it'll taste like chicken."

"I will pass." Natalia then remembered her manners and she added in an absently ironic tone. "Thank you."

It might of been her imagination, but L- no Asch might of smiled. But it was too dark to be sure.

"Well, if you're so concerned with these friends of yours, let’s go."

He stood; she looked at him numbly, not quite sure what to think... much less believe.

"After the monsters, you mean?" Natalia queried.

To that Asch turned, not even a ghost of good humor touched his face to soften the stark terror that suffused Luke's eyes. "If we're looking for those, we need to go back the way you came."

"I prefer my monsters with fang, horns, and tails, thank you very much." Natalia countered, speaking as candidly to a man called "the Bloody" as she could have to her fiancé, Luke.

For that Asch smiled, a small grin, part bitter mostly contained.

"We can't pick and choose the monsters, devils, and terrors, which infest this life, your Highness."

"But I can choose the ones I hunt." The princess of Kimlasca snapped. "And those that I hunt were, in part, felled at this spot."

Taking the hint for what it was, the man controlling Luke Fon Fabre nodded.

"This way then." Pointing to the winding, dun hued, spiral stair that slid up the sand molted hide of the submerged tower, Asch the bloody grunted. Though they could see the first turn, the light from up high failed to illuminate the rest. The proposed path was definitely dark, and -though childish- images of Pans lurking in the dark danced in the princess' head. "The tracks go up to the spire, what we find there... well that's for the future, isn't it?" Flicking green eyes that weren't his -but were, in some scary, unsaid way they were- Asch studied her from the corner of his borrowed eyes. Perhaps reading her fears, perhaps being "practical" as the Colonel was so fond of saying, the god general coughed. Snapping her away from childish terrors with that soft sound and returning her to the present.

"I'll take point." It wasn't even an offer. She should have been indignant that a mere soldier was ordering her about... a Daathian soldier no less... But the relief that took her at his unspoken offer of protection made her shoulders slump and a soft sigh slip past her lips -nobleman protocol on self-restraint aside. "Get your bow set, walk with an arrow drawn and the string tensed at all times. We're not alone out here."

Anxiety coming back, with fears for herself piling on the concerns for her companions, did much to rekindle that odd, itching, tension about her shoulders. The sand slipping out of her quiver wasn't helping matters much either.

"I could have gone without hearing that last bit." The princess dared to rebuke, even as she complied to his commands.

 


	4. In Stronger Light

 

Flicker of Judgment

In stronger light

There was a kind of wonder in his place. It was gloomy, shadow choked, such was the nature of the underground, and it went without saying that there was dust, rocks and other obscurations of the geological slant. Those facts Luke had pointed out en masse, until observation had passed that fuzzy line of grating to aggravating. But… though he was right, there was something more that he'd missed in seeing all those little,, petty things. As they'd wandered deeper in, and even as she wandered out, there was a sense of melancholy about this place that settled over her shoulders like a cloak. Angles abutted the walls, boxish structures that may have been houses once upon a time ago stood forlornly in the dark.

And as she walked, she wondered, if these were in fact house, what of the people who'd lived here? Where were they?

With a hiss sand slithered from some hole above, steeling the light, plunging their gloom into true blackness. It passed, even as she was still lost in the motions of one truly afraid of the dark. With a snakey sigh, the dark that had set her to timidly looking too and fro passed and the orange tinged light from up high returned. Gripping her bow tight, as if with mere wood and steel she might battle back the consuming shadows, she shivered.

Above, ahead by only a handful of steps, Asch the Bloody paused.

Or rather he made Luke Fon Fabre do so. The motion however was so natural, so… at ease that it was creepy. Yet there was a fickle casualness to it all that left her… unsteady.

She could scarcely tell them apart, even knowing what she did.

"Natal, come here."

To that command, hardly as currish as the last one, almost reasonable, she folded. Pacing up mud hued stairs, shying about rocks and gouges that time and claws had left in the stone ages ago yet no dust had ever filled. She shirted about those edges and kept a careful eye on the edge itself, not wanting to topple over. At his side, Natalia waited, and the dark was such she could not see the whole of his face.

There was a relief in that.

"Put your bow away, and stick that arrow in your quiver."

"I thought you said…"

"Don't argue, just do it."

To that she smiled, then obeyed.

"Are you absolutely positive it's not Asch the Bore?" She bantered.

To that he chuckled, and that fickle light shifted ever so slightly, so that she could see the small smile on his lips.

"Positive."

"What do you want me to do?"

To that he chuckled, green eyes glimmering with a touch of gold. "For a princess you're rather... palatable..."

Telling herself it was just the light -that fickle, flickering light- that was making her see things, Natalia forced a grin, and a shrug.

"If that makes you comfortable, believe what you will. All I know is I'm in a new situation, in dangerous terrain, and you know what you're doing. Or rather, you act like it. So, for now, I will trust your judgment."

His smile widened, and much to her surprise, the man known as the Bloody laughed. His mirth was as soft as sandfall, as bitter as poison, and utterly cautious. It was as if even that twisted signal of mirth must be short and quick least if be snatched up and stolen by some jealous other. "Touché, your highness. Touché."

And having said his piece Asch the Bloody bowed low, admitting and admiring her wit.

It took all of Natalia's will not to shiver, all of it.

XXX

When Luke and Guy fell her heart nearly stopped. It was impossible, them losing, they were... if not the best the best trained, from the best families. But despite potentially being "the best" and more importantly her friends, the impossible was coming to pass. They were going to lose.

It wasn't a slow revelation, a conclusion gathered after putting together all the bits and pieces of evidence until they corresponded with this most unwelcome of conclusions. Had that been the case she could have accepted. They said, after all, that the Score's final revelation and closing measures came as such. Slow and steady, the final revelation -one's death- inevitable and properly poetic. Had this been anything like that she might have conceded her defeat as for the "better" of things. Had it followed the proper forums she would have complied, might have accepted.

But this revelation was sharp and cruel, and utterly bitter. To that facade of death, a fighter’s death, frantic and fast and utterly bloody and wasted- she could not fold. Not without a fight.

With a low growl of defiance she shot another arrow into the melee, snapping Sync out of his Fonists trance than, piling insanity onto impossibility, she charged. Shoving past Tear, forcing the woman out of range of Largo's descending scythe, she leapt over the grandiosely altered farmer's tool like a child would hop over a line on the cobbles in a game of hop skip. Even as she leapt she pulled another arrow from the quiver, by fletching alone she knew it to be one with an edge. Her feet hit sandy stone, and she looked up, unflinching into the bearded, maned, face of the man they called Black Lion.

"Desist or die."

The creek of her bow's string going taunt, the razor edge gleaming in the shaky light, stole the melodrama from her moment, making it utterly true.

"Her highness should not play with weapons." Largo chided, going dead still at the threat to his life. "She's far too young for the toys best left in the hands of adults."

With a heave of his shoulders he swept his black, jagged, weapon over his head and with a roar brought it down. Pulse hammering in her throat, fingers steady, she sighted and fired. Roar became scream as the hand holding the massive weapons shaft crumpled and curled, a familiar red fletching shivering between the Lion's knuckles. With a sickening scree steel skittered across stone as scythe skipped across the ground. Snatching another arrow, blunted the notch below the feather told her, she drew and fired. With a sickening crack the arrow slammed into the Lion's chin and shattered. It wasn't the only thing that broke. Largo staggered back spitting curses and blood, jaw horribly unaligned.

Resolute _not_ thinking about what that meant Natalia shied around the wounded Lion, pulling another arrow from her quiver even as she went. The whole of her world was fixated on the stair and the twin swordsman sprawled at its base. Sparing a glance up at the walkway's apex, she looked up at Asch the bloody even as he began his leisurely descent. Sword drawn, idly swishing, murderous intent more than obvious. Their eyes met, and the world stopped for a split second. The surety... her intent... all went flying away at the observation made once before and faced once again. They looked so much the same, there was a horror in that, a unsaid terror as all her questions came back and went unanswered. The moment, however, was just a moment, no matter it's import. It came and went, and there was the violent world and all its conflict tossed back into the fore. Actually, reality came back with a loud crash as Sync cried out, Anise hooted, and Tokonuga's stuffie fists tossed the spry god general almost ontop of the princess. Spiting a curse, Sync caught himself, landing less then five feet from Natalia, the Tempest spat at her than spared a glance for Asch. With a curt nod that said Lorelei knew what, the young god-general charged back into the melee.

And by the sound of Anise's screech the Tempest's counter was more vicious than whatever blows Tokunagua had used to send him flying.

Pulse hammering in her throat, hands shaking, she drew back the string of her bow. Unaware of how the weapon came to be in her hands, or how she managed to nock the arrow. She only knew that she'd drawn, and had aimed, all without realizing that she was going through all those nit pick motions that precluded a shot. Thus, it stood between them, her ready bow and the few feet between him and _them_. Silver tip dulled by the sandy dark, she pointed the arrow at Asch the Bloody's chest.

Looking coolly at the arrow pointed at his very heart, those hauntingly familiar green eyes widening in shock, then narrowed, to at last settle into a tell nothing stare.

Then, as that moment died, and became another. He smirked with an awful humor. Almost seemed to be gloating over his own death, the offer that hung in her hands. And out of all the responses available to her mute threat, that smile seemed the most horrible response of all. For it was a bitter, empty, smile. Still baring his teeth in that sick grin, he continued down the steps, almost sauntered to the downed pair.

"Leave my fiancé alone you monster!" She screamed, and to that he stopped his measured, menacing, descent.

" _Your... fiancé_?" He breathed those words, tone shaken until breaking. His almost placid seeming stare twisted into an expression so violate it could only be the edge of madness. "Your... fiancé? This... dreck... is your... _husband_ , is he?"

Ever a princess, she sniffed, nearly sneezed. This... row... was kicking up a hellish amount of dust, and her eyes and throat burned just for being. From a world away the Colonel's voice rose in a fonic chant. "Yes, he is, and I won't let you hurt him. Or his... my... friend."

"Guy Cecil." The Bloody spat, and the man in question moaned. "A would be servant of house Fon Fabre."

"How do you know that?"

"As head of special ops." Asch the Bloody smirked, that awful smile in place and shaking as a snarl fought and nearly took it's place. "It's my place to know too much, and to be damned for my knowing."

He took another step closer to the downed pair and to that she shifted her grip.

"Stop." She choked out, nearly coughing; the smothering dark seemed so close it was all she could do to breathe.

"We're not in Kimlasca, Princess." Asch noted, "you have no power here. No power over me, no power over anything until you cross over that imaginary little line that marks Kimlasca from the world and you find some accommodating fool to cater to your whims."

Another step, he held her gaze, sword gripped steady. The weapon's edge gleamed with alluded, hellish, sharpness. A murderer's tool in the murderer's grip, for sure. She had no doubts.

"I said, stop."

"Or what? You'll shoot me?"

"Obviously."

He snarled through his smile, the contradiction made her shiver more than "just a little bit".

"You've never killed a man before princess. I can see it in your eyes. When you kill someone..." He swung his sword meaningfully, green eyes intent. ".. it stains everything you touch. Never washes clean. So just do the world a favor and keep your hands clean. You'll be the first monarch in Lorelei knows how long not to be a hypocrite."

She shifted her point of aim, braced for a heart shot that would only connect if he took another step down. Seeing that, and the tightening about her eyes, he stopped, that creepy amused yet hollow smile teasing his lips.

"I will protect my fiancé, and my friends." She bit out.

"Just turn away and let me do what I damned well do best." The Bloody ordered.

"Like hell I will." Natalia flared. " _You_ have no power here; you're just a barking mad man with a sword."

Cocking his head to the side, green eyes glimmering, Asch chuckled so softly she could scarcely hear the sound. "Profanity, princess? Isn't that a bit out of -"

Eyes widening, tension stealing the lazy cat like quality to his walk, the Bloody stared at some point beyond her and a bit above. A shadow fell over her, hostile and massive, she turned and shot without thinking. Grunting at the hit, the Lion snarled and with the hand not wounded slashed out with his gauntleted fist. With a soft scream she was spun about by the force of the Lion's blow, lifted from the ground, and upon impact with the earth she skidded along sand and cobbles.

Her bow fell from her fingers, had fallen from the shock of impact. It fell at Largo's feet with a hollow clatter.

"Kill them, and be done with it, Asch." The Lion snarled, voice slurred by his previous injury.

Before Asch could respond a barked string of words and sharp gesture on the Necromancer's part threw flames over the Lion's frame. Roaring out a counter Arte, the Lion shook off the biting fires and gripping his weapon in his whole hand turned about to join Sync in the melee. The second Largo's back was turned, Asch the Bloody slipped down the stairs, bypassing the sprawled bodies at it's base and approached the downed princess.

Her eyes were open, but horribly glazed, blood trickled from a fresh cut along her jaw. Sneer and snarl fast fading, he stood over her, then seeing she wasn't coherent enough to move he knelt. His tabard scaling as it picked up the sand about it, the Bloody gently reached out and checked her pulse then crept one gloved hand along her scalp. She groaned then, looked up at him with eyes that were obviously not seeing a thing.

The miss matched sized pupils told the story of why louder than any seventh fonist could.

Concussed, and about ready to fall unconscious, to that potential lethal combination Asch acted. Even as the Princess of Kimlasca Laventeer looked up at him, unseeing, her eyes fluttering weakly he gave her a sharp shake. To his touch she groaned, then shuddered and turned her head away at the slimy... whatever it was he pressed against her lips.

"Damn it Natal, take the damned jell already!" The Bloody hissed, giving another shake when she almost slipped under. "Or I swear to Lorelei I'll force it down your throat!"

Tilting her head back, holding the gelatinous medicine to her lips, he looked first to her, than cast a frantic glance back into the fight. It wasn't on him, not yet, but a moan from Luke caught his ear and told him just how little time they had left.

"Natal, please." He begged, daring another shake, this one not as harsh as the others.

"L..Luke.. what..."

"Come on, Natal, take the medicine." Then seeing the facsimile of sense about her, he dredged up a smile, hoping she'd sense what she couldn't see. "We have to get out of here."

To that, she smiled, trying a brave grin for the person he was not. "Alright... Luke... whatever you say..."


	5. untitled, taking sugestions

 

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 5

There was a flurry of blind flight before the light died. A rush of motion that precluded some mass underground migration, and it seemed that from the corner of her eye that chunks under the walkway and cavern walls broke free, falling ever up with soft screeches and rains of sand. Choking, bent double, Natalia tried to cry out and nearly strangled as a result. The man at her side who was christened the Bloody yet was not, lay equally prone. Gasping each bitter breath, he wheezed and cried, even as he smothered.

Without thinking, only knowing that he was suffering, she acted. Ripping the scarf from about her neck she pressed the flimsy accessory, that small bit of vain glory, into his trembling hands. Startled, he stared at her, not understanding. Guiding his hands, resolutely not breathing, she wound the fabric about his face, loose but taunt enough that it would block out some of this underground sandstorm's debris.

Clenching her teeth, telling herself not to breathe, Natalia decided in that insane moment before the light died that there would _never_ be dust in Batical. Castle or city, there would never be a speck of dust allowed ever again. As princess she could see to it, it would be a massive public works to keep the city immaculate but...

But the moment passed, and her lungs screamed, and she _had_ to breathe. So she did, and nearly choked to death as a result.

XXX

"Earth bats." He'd explained, once the dust had settled, and the underground storm had stilled. Brushing dust and worse from himself, Luke grunted, looking upward at the light that had long since flown. She could imagine his frown, even as she could imagine him looking up. She nearly giggled despite the burning in her throat as she imagined that full faced pout he'd worn almost every day for the last seven years. Despite how grating he could be, that expression was a touch cute... not quite adorable, but endearing to one who had the patience to see what lay beyond it. It was a familiar expression, so well known that she didn't have to think hard to dredge it up...

Save it didn't quite fit. How odd indeed that expression would look on a man who went by "the Bloody". Giggle dying as the full reality of the here and now came home, Natalia shivered, glad that the dark was deep enough to hide her motion.

"Natal..." That name, so familiar from a man who shouldn't have known it. His knowing, what he knew, it made her wonder more than just a little bit. "Can you get up yet?"

"I.. think so..." She coughed, expelling the last of the dust from her lungs, or so she prayed. Twisting about, feeling more than a little bit lost at the oppressive dark that stole heaven and earth from sight, she pushed up. Her legs felt to be shaking, certainly her hands were, still she managed a sketchy kind of standing. "Did this... did this happen, when you and your... friends came down here? With those awful bat creatures flying about in swarms?" She murmured, not really wanting to know, merely needing to hear something save the echoing screeches in the dark.

Bat calls, distorted by distance, by dark, they sounded far too like laughter for her comfort.

His cool "No, they didn't" wasn't much comfort. His expected. "And they aren't my friends." Wasn't too much of a surprise.

Scared and shaking, she looked to where she thought he was, and was confronted b a dark that had no bottom, no top, no edges, or forum. Still, he was behind it, of that she was sure. Facing that dark, forcing herself to be stern and strong, she countered just as briskly as he'd rebuked her.

"Do you have _any_ friends at all?"

To that, he was silent a good long span.

"Three that I could name, the type a man like me should have, murders, and thieves and the like." A pause, then less bitter, a touch lost. "I had... four... but one died, was murdered." He corrected himself softly.

To that she bit her lip though he could never see it.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, he... _I_... deserved it." A soft chuckle, the crunch of sand under his boot as he dared a step. "For being a bore, if nothing else, hmm?"

To that she could say nothing, so in silence she listened as he dared another step. This one ended in a click as his foot kicked aside some rock or other more solid debris.

"Talk to me." Asch ordered coldly, the softness in his tone fled, in her mind she could see his scowl back in place, bitter and sure. "I need to know where you are."

"Why?"

"I'm not going to leave you alone here, in the dark. We'll get back to your friends, then I need to disassemble that Necromancer of yours." A laugh then, so acidic she flinched. Just listening to that awful sound was like taking a wound. "I think I'll rip his hide from his frame then break all the bastard's bones to boot."

XXX

_Sanity returned to her eyes, coherence, each in turn. To that, his smile faded, and his tenderness flew away on the wild winds of Auldrant. Expression twisting into that familiar, bitter, facade that was always expected, he stood. Scarf like cassic rustling, it slid along her cheek, a tender silk caress. Seeing that, he let out a soft snarl and snatched the fabric back, as if it were a stray hand that was doing what it shouldn't be. A faint flush climbing his cheeks, Asch stood, letting his grip on Natalia fall away. She whimpered softly as the gell's healing properties activated the latent seventh fonons in her blood. All too familiar with that hellish burning that never truly caught a flame, more than acquainted to that feverish ache that chilled and shook the paralyzed flesh, Asch turned away._

_"Lu.." The name of her fiancé dribbled past her lips, caught and lodged as she finally saw whom she was looking at. To that he turned, grim, always grim._

_"So sorry princess," The Bloody sneered. "But you're talking to the wrong man."_

_She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, to wonder -such dangerous things, small shadings of the greater devil that was defiance- a loud. To that he scoffed, then whirled as with a crinkle sand went flying and prone limbs surged into motion. Having at last shaken off the effects of his tumble down the stairs, Luke fon Fabre was up and about just a moment too late. Sword in hand snatched up from where it had fallen besides him, the Duke's son charged. Asch had had idle thoughts of tossing it over the edge and into the dark abyss that lay below, both sword and party holding it, but had been detained from his sport by other, more important things._

_"Leave Nat alone, you bastard!" Luke screamed, charging... no staggering into the thick of things._

_Clearly the drek wasn't quite as recovered as Asch had though. A shame that, that the bastard had recovered this much, to hold delusions that he might actually be able to win. Catching the over head chop that was meant to end things quickly, Asch locked his arm, held both blades in place for a heart beat. Studying the stance and slant of his opponent’s arm, the Bloody deduced the other red head to be firmly entrenched in the ranks of novices and acted accordingly. With a negligent surge of motion, something between a slash and a shrug, Asch broke the dead lock. Wailing, Luke staggered back, his feet going out under him in the loose dirt._

_Sprawled amongst the sand, edges lost in the dark and the cloud of dust he'd kicked up upon going down, Luke fon Fabre groaned. Down again, so soon? That question teased the edges of Asch's tongue, and his expressionless facade shattered with a quirk of his lips that was wholly malice. If this was the extent of "training" a son of a nobleman received Asch was hardly impressed._

_"You're stubborn." The bloody snarled. "I'll give you that, but you're a damned fool."_

_Luke's answering groan picked up an edge, as the drek cursed at him as well. To that, Asch smiled, this killing would be sweet, he'd savor it, but make it quick. Quick and bloody, and painful. The agony could linger for hours if he did this right, linger and be quite impossible to heal if he dug in with his hands and... unaligned certain parts, slashed specific organs, wrenched them just right... Even the Necromancer wouldn't be able to put the fallen nobleman's son back together if a few yards of his intestinal tract were properly mutilated._

_As for other, others who might care, who might protest this bit of bloodthirstiness. Well... he'd say it was an accident. If all else failed he could get away with blaming Sync. Oh, yes, Sync loved to torture after all. It could easily be the Tempest's fault, a few words here and hints there and it would be mere child's play to lay this sin at the feet of a child so prone to sadism._

_A flash of movement, behind him, alongside him, he whirled, sword slashing out by purest accident as his conscious mind told him who it was and his instincts screamed at him to kill. There was a hesitance because of that, and for his weakness she slipped around him, graceful even in her flight, ever graceful. That observation stilled his blade, though for a few precious seconds he could have slipped his sword into her back, taking her from the fight. Those moments came and went, and then there she was. Before him, in his way, with Luke fon Fabre's sword held in shaking hands._

_"You have to get through me first, fiend."_

_And, in that moment his eyes went wide. Startled, shocked, for the first time in years. Her words, though proper, were as shattered as her equilibrium. Doubt was in her, a hellish, wondering, like the macabre interest one takes on noticing a lethal would to the side._

_It did hell to her tone and made a horror of her faked confidence._

_Idly, he probed the injury in his soul. Eyes narrowing to their proper width, lips curling into their previous sneer that was part scorn and wholly hollow, he wondered._

_"You're holding that wrong, you know." Asch breathed, voice suited to... other days._

_"Wh.. what did you say?"_

_"Just what I said, Natalia. You're holding that sword wrong."_

_She looked away then, that doubt coming alive for her, consuming her. It was so horribly alive in her, it had something of fear and horror to it, but was... wholly hollow. And they, the two men who looked so much the same, one behind her, one before her, were the emptiness' echo cast in flesh and blood. And those of blood, they bleed. Luke moaned, and Asch waited, eyes riveted on that poorly held blade. He wondered, even as he tested the wound again, and felt that aching flare in his hear, how much longer they expected him to bleed._

_Seeing his reflection split in twain by that polished steel, the man called "Bloody" smiled. it wouldn't be longer, not much longer, since they'd all but bled him dry now._

_There was a comfort in that._


	6. Idle Chatter

 

Chapter 6

Idle chatter

Without light, they slid forward. One cautions foot's length at a time. The dark was thick enough it hurt the eye trying to see through it, and the path was so convoluted by time and claws' passing that they dared no true steps. Nor did they dare to close their eyes, in mutual hopes that the light would return.

Thus, eyes wide open yet utterly blind, they advanced. Braving dark so deep it hurt to look at.

Hands gripping the holster of a sword's sheath, Natalia all but clung to Luke fon Fabre's back. As for the holder's attending sword, it rested easily in the Bloody's hands. She bit back a protest as he swished it about yet again; perhaps he drew comfort from the sound of steel slicing air. To her it was unbearably annoying; she wished she dared comment but common sense held her back. A man was not christened "the Bloody" for the color of his locks after all.

Beyond and above, distorted by echoes, came a rustle and squeak, in response to that she shuddered. Drawing closer than close she all but whimpered in his ears, childhood terrors freed from their box and paraded to all parties present. At her touch and suffering he stiffened.

And to that silence, the last of her composure, her pretense to dignity, broke and took confession's forum. "It… it must seem horribly p... pitiful for a princess to be scared of the dark." She breathed the words, more to hear something besides that occasional squeak and rustle, those snaky hisses, all wrapped in dark so deep it set her imagination to running amok. To her admission of cowardice he stirred, stillness broken, he shook his head. Luke's locks tickled her wrist, teased her nose as he stirred. Even to that facsimile of... support? Certainly not that, but optimism sprung eternal… She shivered, rejected whatever he'd just offered.

"It just seems so… unclothe… to be this afraid…"

And, from this oddest source, came advice, with no snark or sarcasm, no scorn attached at all. "Fear makes fools of us all." The Bloody muttered, twisting her fiancés lips to forum the words. "There is so much of life that does… unclothe. Life is savage and cruel, and you can't jam life into long tailed words or even put all of it in words. There are just some thing's language fails at."

She considered, chewing her li for a bit. Then, daring another dragging step as he did, she stood scarce inches from his back. Questions formed in her throat, even scared silly she was always curious. Ever wondering. Natal, the curious kit, that's what nanny had always called her.

"How is… Luke doing?"

So close, she felt him stiffed, his breathe was a soft hiss, both angry and pained.

"He's fine." The answer came out a bit too quick to be true.

"Really?"

"I... I think so. He thinks he's in a nightmare, and he keeps trying to wake up."

They shuffled along, silent for a while; the only sounds were their feet scraping over stone, the lisped sighs as there faltering steps set sand tumbling over unimaginable edges. Suddenly, a stop. Hissing curses the Bloody stopped, cringed in pain.

"Are.. are you alright?"

"Just-" He hissed an oath. "-fine…"

"I am a seventh fonist you know." Natalia felt obliged to point out after he spent a few moments utterly still, snapping off curses.

"I stubbed my toe. You can fix that?"

Nipping her lip least she giggle, the princess simply smiled and hoped he couldn't tell. "It'd be a first." She conceded. "But I could try-"

To her offer he shook his head, his hair ghosting over her hands, teasing her wrists.

"Probably not a good idea. His slots are all blasted open and seeping fonons like blood from a slit artery."

Shivering at his choice of words she shook her head, scarcely understanding.

"How could healing cause a problem, the state of his fonon slots aside?"

"He's seeping seventh fonons. Due to the jags on his slots their bouncing around and unstable due to the dissonance of their pathways. Tossing stable fonons on unstable is the same as setting off a fonon bomb, throwing the same fonons, especially those that are inherently unstable like the seventh…"

"I can't imagine…" Natalia whimpered, loosening her grip a little, just in case touching a seventh fonist might… set something off.

Never knowing, Asch caused Luke's lips to quirk into a smile.

"As long as the link's open he won't trigger a hyperresonance."

Steal feeling sick, Natalia drew a little closer, but not too close. She wasn't too sure what a hyperresonance could do (all the texts said was that they were very bad and very rare, and only that) but it sounded bad. And down here, amongst choking darkness that mockingly laughed, abandoned, it seemed that bad could quickly become awful if given enough lee way.

"What…" He shifted, she fell silence as he set one foot to tentatively feeling ahead. Heartened by his sudden lack of curses she continued with a little cough. "What happens when he wakes up?"

Silence, stillness, then a breathe deep and steadying. As if he must draw on his own courage to speak the unspeakable. "Then… we are in huge trouble."

Tick tapping went his foot. Ignoring stub and all, Asch felt the length and width of the obstruction, than sighed in relief. Though solid it wasn't palatable, stone firm, edges. In short he'd found a stair, the first step that lead up, up and out. Cracking a weary triumphant grin he reached back, taking Natalia's wrist in hand.

"Come on, let's get out of here, we'll have plenty of time for talk later."

Then, tugging what he held, he pulled her along behind him. Princess in one hand, sword in the other, Natalia was grudgingly forced along.


	7. Evasions

 

Flicker of Judgment 

Evasions

In old romantic tales lady and lords stood side by side in all matters. Stepping beyond the Score bound oaths of "for sickness and in health" when a Lord went to war his Lady went with him. In peace, they ruled jointly, over estate and lands, nurturing and protecting their people and property a one. In times of battle, in those long ago days, that once upon a time times the Lord would wear a peace knot binding his blade to its scabbard. Only his lady was allowed to untie it, unless it was a matter of life or death. And when fighting came, as it must, for Kimlascan Nobles and Royality fought alongside their own, a Lord's lady love would unbind the ties and bind them about her own wrist.

Thus together, they fought together, if it was so scored, they'd die.

All in all it went so far beyond "in sickness and in health" that Daath objected. It was too much for the hierarchy of Daath, the death of a Lord meant the death of his Lady, and if one passed on an unScored hour... Sacrilege, yes, but a logical concern. So, long ago, before the leery caution that marked the relationship between city and state, Daath had made a proposition and with the thrones of all nations behind it, had prevailed.

Slowly, surely, through propaganda and proper encouragements, wielding censorship like a blade, an idea was purged from the common consensus. Scorn piled upon the traditionalists that hung to such romantic notions deterred any would be youth from reviving what was lost, long yet forcibly forgotten...

Still, she had found a ghost of that past lore. She'd been digging through Mother's library one day, after the abduction. Bored and restless, mind unwilling to bend to study, duty shaken off by dogged anxiety, she'd shifted through the books owned by a woman she honestly never knew. Yet, her own mother was a ghost she'd never escaped. _So much like her_ , so Father would say, setting a doting hand on her head. An idly pat of affection while he perused orders and dictates proposals by the pseudo royal nobility, trying to drive the line between empty nonsense, praise, and make enough of a wedge through it all to catch a glimpse of the true need barely alluded. For the reports of what was needed were always hidden. You had to dig to find the real things, he'd taught her, not with words but by hours watching him labor seeking, searching, and sometimes failing. Still, with failure in his eyes, and frustration bowing his shoulders he had looked up and smiled. _You're so much like her, my little Natalia_ …

"Father," Never _Daddy_ , that wasn't allowed, not for her nor any child of the elite, they were nobility after all, such familiarity was not permitted. It was by far, too common. "I was wondering, I was reading some of Lady-Mother's books and…"

Eyes trained to pick words up in a heartbeat he'd skimmed the contents of the open page before she could even finish her thought. A sad frown took the King's face, and with a regal motion he'd beckoned her as if she had become one of his attendants. She approached, curious as to this subtle change in him, heart quickening with unspeakable feelings. With a firm hand he took the book from her, still frowning, he snapped it closed.

"There are something's that are best left unknown, my little one."

"But..."

Her eyes smarted, though she was in truth fine the finality of his closing that book… She had just wanted to know and… And everything rushed to the fore, all her worry and doubts. It set her eyes to burning her sight to blurring.

Turning his back on her, he sighed.

"Why don't you visit your lady-aunt, Suzanne?" King Ingobert suggested gently, setting the book aside, pen up, looking busy. "You always make her smile so, and she's in much need of smiles this day."

Face burning, she'd nodded, conceded he was right with a quick bow and quieter exit.

There was such a thing as knowing too much, she knew that now, and she'd never forget.

For she'd seen, and for seeing that forbidden text she recalled. In truth she was made to recall with every step. Lovers, nobles, went to battle, a lady bound to her Lord's side, gripping the sheath in hands that must surely tremble. And hurt, as were hers. Telling herself that the touch of Luke's hair _was not_ silky for the seventh time she tried to keep up an edge of frustration… indignation… _anything_ to blot out the surrealistic slant of this situation. She must keep a barrier between the circumstances and herself. After all, dignity must be preserved; she was a royal, not some little girl lost in the dark.

Checking a soft scree of terror when something chittered, something close, she stiffened and tightened her grip. Wishing in truth she dared to release, take a step back, and orient herself. But here, where edges were lost and dark was complete, letting go now would be beyond foolish. So she endured, as did he.

"Stop pulling so hard. The straps are dug in so much I'm losing circulation here!" Asch the Bloody groused, sounding far too much like Luke Fon Fabre for her sanity.

"You could slow down." Natalia countered.

"You could speed up!" Asch snapped right back.

"A gentleman-"

"I-" The bloody hissed, growling each and every syllable. "-am not a _gentleman_."

A pause, a silence. Contrary to his claim he did slow, just a bit, and holding in a relieved sigh she loosened her grip a teny tiny bit.

"You could give a little more on your end." Asch grumbled after he tried, and failed, at shrugging.

She kicked him for that, stating it was an accident when he demanded to know why she'd done that she countered that she'd done nothing at all. Movement, she'd stammered, a rat perhaps. And, despite being a man who claimed to "know too much" he didn't seem to know enough. Accepting the assumption that royalty were dignified and contained in all things, he let it drop. A royal wouldn't stoop to lashing out over something stupid. Buying that falsehood Asch didn't press, and despite how stupid and petty (and how horribly unfair it would be to Luke who'd bare the bruises after all) Natalia smiled into the crook of her betrothed's shoulder and tried with might and mien not to laugh, nor did she dare a smile.

XXX

"Get away!"

Stabbing wildly, slashing crazily, she drove him back with ferocity alone. Ignoring the dull throb of bruises and that ineffable taste of miracle gel against her tongue, she attacked. She only wanted him away, back _, gone_ , she'd never meant to hurt him.

Still, accidents happened, mistakes were all but guaranteed when novices ran amok. Perhaps it was because her arms shook –Luke's sword was heavy, very heavy- or perhaps it came from the shocks of the day –kidnappings, and god generals, and monsters, oh my!- or maybe it was simply Scored. His guard was down, her aim was off, and it came together with an awful symmetry. They were nearly slammed together by her stumble and attack than they whipped apart, she in shock –she'd just touched a Scored cursed mad man, literally, that could not be a good thing- he in pain. Checking a roar of outrage, face twisting under the pressure of holding it in, he glared at her, hand nursing a suddenly smarting cheek.

Thus, they stood, and during their second's long stalemate her gaze drifted down to the blood tipped sword in her hands. If this was… as all the tales went, than the first blood was hers. She should have felt triumphant, she supposed. Confident that she'd struck a blow against evil, confident that victory was hers. But all she felt was need. The Need to hurl the filthy sword away. The Want to take her friends -all of them, old and new for those she traveled with were her friends now whether they returned such feelings or not- away. Far far away from here. Away from places where the earth was the sky, and the sand it's blood, where the air stifled and burned in turn. She wanted to take them back to Batical, because Batical was _safe_ like how a child declared a place _base_ in tag. Batical was that involute span, a shield to the world's maddening, mad, cycles.

But this wasn't a game, there were no _base_ 's no guarantees to safety, no… nothing.

Innocence shattered at that horrid realization her sword shook all the more. Shook so hard she knew she would surely be sick. She met the eyes that did not belong to her beloved yet did. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Terror and sickness congealed into a horrid realization without epiphany, and to such sick secrets in this "real world" she lost the last of her grace and stoicism. Face all but spaszoming, she held a sword she'd surely drop if pressed.

She wasn't even aware that she'd screamed. Never even noticed that she swung. Only that the blade swept down after somehow being lifted all the way up. Eyes widened, green and familiar, than they narrowed and with a clang his blade met hers. Steel scrapped across steel with a sound that set her teeth on edge and her gorge to rising. With a shove he made her stagger to the side, and utterly professional (surprise aside) the Bloody met her step for step. In that last awkward span before balance was claimed he acted. Heat from friction fast fading, Natalia stiffened at the chilling touch against her throat.

"Drop it." Asch ordered.

She let the blade tumble from her fingers, it hit the ground with a sound too cheerful that it was surreal. Gesturing with his sword, relieving her of it's awful kiss on her throat, he indicated she was to kick it aside. Over the edge, his green eyes suggested, though he hadn't said a word his gaze spoke plenty. Shaken, shaking, she only managed to nudge it a few feet. Nowhere near the edge, dredging up a blood streaked smile, the Bloody shrugged at her efforts. Than with another of his expressive gestures he ordered her to the side.

"Move."

Reading the murderous intent Natalia shook her head. Hands fisted, nails nipping her palms, she defied him. Taking a deep breathe, Asch smothered a roared repetition. Barely, just barely least he draw fatal attention to this little side drama.

"That man…" Blade flicked indicated the fallen nobleman with its tip. "isn't worth your protection Natal _. He never was_."

Silence that wasn't silent. Behind a battle raged. From the slew of roars and curses the Tempest and Lion were losing ground. Any moment now he'd be recalled, or she would. The flow of the fight would eventually slow and one side would recall if not both. Than they'd both be seen and this pseudo tranquility born of mutual negligence would be gone.

And this moment would die, and others complicated varied others, would impose.

One step, oozing menace, a silent snarl set blood to flowing freer, the bloody approached. Refusing to quiet her fists, she stood her ground. Score forecast of "striving for tranquility" be damned.

"No." A second's hesitance. "Never, who gave you right to say who's worth anything, in this world no mortal judge has that right. No kingdom, no fiefdom, can stake that claim."

Thus she defied Score, Lorelei, and Lorcrian… whatever his rank was… all at once.

XXX

The took each stair one by one. Familiar yet not. Recalled imperfectly by frantic (well in his case hurried) descent. In care the risks seemed complied, crazy when approached again. Still, they ascended, only stopping just once more. She felt Luke's tension, a set to his spine that was too resolute to really be Luke, than the moment was gone. And a soft cure told her he'd failed, that the whatever that made him stop ended in failure.

For a moment she hesitated, but royalty weren't meant to do so. It was unseemly to hesitate, for that meant you might be wrong and dictates from royals were like dictates from god. Never wrong, always right, Score guided declaration for the betterment of all Auldrant. So, she spoke where others would have said nothing. Upbringing should have told her not only to act, but what to say. A member of house Lanvaldear was to be practical and prudent.

Still the reasonable "what are you doing" was wasted, after all he was done… and the expected "can I help" would just be met with biting refusal since not only was it over but it had ended in failure.

So, she tired a kinder route.

"Are you alright?"

It hung between them, unanswered for the longest time. Steps were tentatively passed enough that she was sure he'd never answer.

Than, all unexpected, a response. "Luke's fine."

"That's not what I-"

A tug ushered her to greater speed, and though she wanted to press he never explained this most particular of evasions.


	8. Monster, by definition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: A little OOC ness for Ion and Asch in the latter part of this chapter, the fight sceen… it was inspired by a tales of abyss comic called "the kitchen sink"

 

Flicker of Judgment 

Monster, by definition

The realization was slow to settle. Still, it fell into place, more so with each step. A sickening puzzle, pieced together, so right it was wrong. So tight and sure it choked.

Though they looked the same, they were not. Endurance…. Lacked, and what skills there were where grotesquely underdeveloped. Forget that grey land of lack a duster and call it what it was, all genetically inclined good traits had been anthropoid away. He would have sworn, had he dared, not daring he held to his silence.

As to why there were reasons, good ones, all found by hap stance.

One trip ( _her fault_ , he'd snapped, _his_ she'd groused back with shocking good nature) later and one revelation had passed. He'd ordered total silence on both their parts. The earth was beating, hand pressed against stone after a quick skinning slide over sand, and he found a pulse where one wasn't supposed to be. Face blanching, stolen façade matched frozen eyes. He quaked with dawning fear.

"Lu.. Asch?" A question, a breath, and even that quiet sound overrode the subtle pounding.

"Shh!"

Pressing his ear to the stone, he waited. They both forgot breathing for a sound, focused on listening. Then, sensing her unspoken confusion Asch took Natalia's hand and set it against the stone alongside his own. Her gasp told him she'd felt, and more importantly understood. She loosed his hold, struggled to stand.

"Natal, if it's what I'm thinking…"

"The others." She snapped, cutting him off. "We… well I mean _I_ can't."

Understanding he pulled himself to his feet, than helped her along.

"We won't." He corrected gently, surprised to find he was smiling, her little gasp of shock widened his smile so it warmed his eyes. Suddenly his smile left him, as he _recalled_ , sobering his once light tone so a ghost of bitterness took warmth's place. "One person left in the dark was enough for me."

And his tone, perhaps the chill slant of his touch forbade her from questioning, though there must be questions, surely. He beckoned and she came, never seeing, just knowing.

"Let's go." Natalia agreed, checking her quiver by touch alone, content it was secure they picked up the pace, forsaking caution. When he made to protest she shook her head. Rebuked him without words. "If you're right, if _we're_ right, than speed is needed. If we're wrong than we look fools, and that's not as bad as others say."

XXX

There were five species on Auldrant, or rather five categories the varied and fantastic creatures that walked, crawled, flew, and swam their world were marked under.

Such was the norm of any school child in Auldrant, attached parenthesized notes indicate the differentiations between Malkuth and Kimlascan nominatives.

Sentient (Self aware)

Monsters

Animal/plant (Fauna/Flora)

Elemental

Construct (Golum)

These five base categories were further divided into two categories. Natural and unnatural. It took little imagination at first glance to slice such a list in twain. Sentients, animals, and plants were classified as "natural" where monsters elements (creation's components given sentience and structures), and constructs were "unnatural".

Yet though distinct there were aberrations. An animal could appear monstrous, what with extensive horns, fanciful hues, and the like. A monster could be self-aware, plant, comprehend how it's actions effected the environ and work accordingly to preserve or decimate due to this. Thus, monsters could, at times, literally be sentient. Auldrant had a host of "sacred" benign beasts that were in truth animals, monsters, and in some rare cases very much aware. Plants (a select few mind) could and did move, and in the case of Mondragulas(sp) could speak. Well, they were known to scream, but still…

Thus, by lessons' end the good girls and boys of Auldrant found their five categories criss-crossed with notes, exceptions, abnormalities, and hybrids. Most generally threw their hands up in exasperation at that point and went with the lay man's saw. "If it bleeds green it's a plant monster. If it's still and bleeds green than it's just a plant. If it talks back to me it's sentient so I don't eat it unless I have too. If it bleeds red it's an animal and if it bleeds black it's a monster. And if it didn't bleed at all than run like hell."

Suffice to say, natural science was a chancy art at best. Most would be practitioners were eaten whilst studying. So while fonic arts and fonic tech (sedentary actions, no monsters/animals/whatever's involved) flourished the natural sciences were more or less neglected.

Still, for the nitpick there were scholarly definitions for those chronically insulted by the lay man's "common" tracts.

Monster, noun, that which possess monstrous traits, an aberration.

Yet for what is said the pretty trappings of language there is always something un said. An allusion tied to each and every definition that differentiates similar words by wrapping them up in shawls of emphasis.

Monsters; noun, a malicious creature possessing abnormal traits.

If every person was unique than what was "normal" but not the trappings of the narrow mind?

Monstrous; adjective, possessing traits of a monster ie: physical or conceptual.

Having slipped out of the realms of the physical Natalia just gave up. Snapping shut dictionary, tucking away the thesaurus, and all the other linguistically inclined tools her pseudo quest had sent her to fetching. Gently setting each text in it's place she absently tidied the shelf, humming softly all the while. Odd to think that inn's had library's, but Cesedonia strove to accommodate all its guests, and their varied tastes.

Dust and fear and smothering dark were fast receding to memory (a long soak in the tub had helped that along considerably) Natalia confirmed all was in place. Though this place was not necessarily hers it was her place, and a sense of responsibility kept her tidy.

Little labor done she smiled, hands on hips, satisfaction brimming. Or… was that brimming satisfaction? Hands easing from their perch in a partial slump her smile fled. Bother, and after she'd just set it all away here she was about to pull it all out again.

With a scowl that brought memories of familiar (yet acidic, burning) green eyes she shivered. Though the scowl was hers and not his (she'd never be able to master such a venomous twisting of her façade, and truthfully had no inclination to ever do so) it was… unsettling. Merely reflecting on so distant an association between her and _him_ was distracting. This game she'd set for herself (the "I told you so" game) of refuting his claims that people could be monsters suddenly lost its' shine.

It wasn't like she'd see him again, or he her. It was merely circumstance that had caused them to meet. Not the heathen's coincidence or damning chance. But it was a Score driven event, a holy circumstance that had been meant to be. And had it been more long term she was sure her personal Scorer would have said something to warn her. She was simply being foolish, like a child unwilling to brave a darkened room sure that there were monsters amongst the forsaken corners.

And… here was that word again. Revisited despite her many and varied attempts to excise it. Even tackling it head on had proven counterproductive. Sitting on the edge of the inn's bed, pretty as a picture, Natalia wondered of monsters for a while. And, as she wondered, a scowl both determined and intent –so like his, though she'd never know, not having the impulse to check it in the mirror- touched her features. It hurt, she hurt, hands aching and burning from handling her bow's string again and again, than the unclothe handling of A... no Luke's sword, her legs were profoundly twitchy from all the running. Up and down stairs, more stairs than Auldrant had any right to produce…

Blessed score, she was tired, so tired and alone. So, alone, she indulged in an unlady like sprawl. Long legs hanging over the edge, limbs askew, it was as if she were in a snow bank with thoughts of making angels on her mind. Angels to ward off the devils that would surely haunt her sleep.

Princes' were supposed to be unspeakably brave. A light… a hope… for all their people. Such symbols, such responsibilities inherent in serving their people should have forbade her form having such a childish fear. Still, for today, and tonight, and several days to come (though how many she'd never tell) she'd fear the dark. The stuff stuffed in closets alongside clothes, the gloom tucked forgotten in the forsaken corners… and the dark behind her eyes.

How many days? Too many perhaps… But she'd never tell, just hoped that it would pass soon.

_Buck teeth grotesquely large, they slipped from unclaimed corners. Rising from sand so like their pelts they seemed crafted of it. Streaming off the excesses, letting out great huffing gwaffs to clear their choked lungs, they sounded like a discordant chorus of mad men reveling in the sickest joke of the century._

Eyes flaring open, she shot up to sitting in a heartbeat. And she was shaking, though not cold she held herself and shook. A quick look about confirmed.. if not what she feared at least what she expected. The shadows were longer, the sun must be setting. And though she suspected she never did rise to check.

She just didn't have the heart to confront the fading light of day, so she considered, and went back to raptly studying nothing at all.

XXX

"No!"

Small arms snapped over the God General's arm as it was poised to strike. Both went down under the impromptu attack. As they fell, Natalia was unsure as to who looked the most shocked, Ion, or God General.

Clinging with uncharacteristic resolve, Ion endured Asch's attempts to shake him off, thwarted one attempt to stand by sheer accident, and endured a slight crushing with a muffled "ack!" that had overtures of "oh, sorry!" before they went down again.

After a long and dusty struggle the God general managed to get to a sort of standing, mostly keeling pose. A little more comfortable the man barked a cold "Let go!" than poised one leg in a pre-kick pose if there ever was one.

"Leave-" another shake. "…my friends…" another, this one to put Ion in line for that kick, Natalia was sure. "Alo- Oh, Guy!"

Shoving Ion one way, Asch rolled the other, and Guy's sword missed its target by mere inches. Snarling a heated "bastard" Asch twisted so he could get to his sword. But he didn't pull it out as fast as he had when fighting Natalia. Something akin to anxiety clutched Natalia's stomach as she realized something was wrong.

"Guy, look out-"

Too busy with making another stab at Asch (no truer a phrase, there) Guy didn't notice her concern. Certainly he didn't respond. With a lightning fast slash and scree Asch and Guy's blades locked, then skittered away. Sacrificing an aggressive stance, the Bloody guided Guy's sword to the stone and sand at his side. The second steel poked into sand and its tip was lost the God General dropped his sword. Snatching a startled Guy by the wrist Asch pulled, grip iron hard, and Guy was dragged along and down. The Bloody's legs tensed, then with a spectacular two legged kick he tossed the servant to house Fabre over his shoulder into the main melee. Writhing to his feet, Asch snorted, fastidiously swiping as his cassic, tabard, and armor. More irritated, if actions told the tale, of the sudden coat of dust than the attempt on his life the Bloody seemed intent on cleaning himself up, never mind the battle that was far too close for comfort. Coming to his feet, sure and slow, Ion plucked at his robe, equally fastidious, realigning the medallion across his neck least someone forget he was Fon Master or something if it were askew.

"Oh dear…"

To that mild declaration of surprise both God General and Princess followed the boy's green gaze. Of the three of them, Natalia took comfort in the fact that she had the grace to wince. Smushed under a load of airborne Guy, the Tempest was rather… pinned down. Definitely out of the fight if the ominous silence from both fighters indicated anything. "Oh dear" indeed, Natalia conceded with a cringe. Faces grim, Tear and Jade upped the effort behind their attack... Anise was… suspiciously quiet and a quick hop on her (and Tokunoga's) part to dodge the Lion's scythe showed she was smiling quite wide.

"Umm.." Nipping his lips, Ion watched, then tentatively for this was his fault after all, uttered a weak. "Opps…"

To that Asch snickered. "Oops, nothing," the god General chortled at the events occurring, having lost his grating antagonism during his ruminations. "Considering everything… that was damned funny." Then, cheerfully malicious, green eyes lighted onto Luke's prone form

"No!" Natalia snarled.

"I didn't say…"

"You didn't have too. I said no!"

And never mind her tone suited say… scolding a puppy for eyeing slippers to chew. Asch the Bloody took no offense. With a mild "Pht." He crossed his arms over his chest. Seemingly indignant, though he smiled all the while. "Whatever, Princess."


	9. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled.. as I couldn't think of anything to call this chapter. Sugestions always welcomed.
> 
> Aslo appologies for the slow update of this piece, life's been happening lately.

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 9

The last span was anticlimactic, to say the least. Battles were supposed to have a symmetry, a proper rhythm to them, so promised the Score. Their openings were titanic, one force seeing the other, thundering across the span to meet in a collide of will, arte, and weapons. That had happened, roundabout. Luke's holler, their flight into the enemy's midst.

But after that… everything had fallen apart.

Everything else had been… to be nice… a farce. Still, the Score taught all of Auldrant to look for deeper meaning, for cause in events and submission for the greater good. Therefore, since no one had got an inkling of their death scores in their own readings in Natalia's group, the God Generals should have known that and conceded to the inevitable. It should have been a quick little scuffle to appease image that was broken on after it had waged on long enough. After all, they were supposed to be closer to Lorelei than ordinary mortals and know their places and the paces of the evasive sentient.

Hence the "god" aspect of their titles.

Hence _nothing_. After a quick exchange where other half of her group had been downed, disable, or tangled up, they lot of them were set to scrambling, and all slowly smothered in the dust kicked up by this underground melee. Forgotten on the edges, well at least until Asch had blown their cover by throwing Guy onto Sync, the man's smug smile telling all it was no accident, God General, Princess, and celestial hostage/Fon Master Ion, watched on. And… was that Anise giggling? Oh dear, she was. A quick dodge of Largo's scythe was punctured by squealing giggles told that tale. By the ripples obscured by his beard the Black Lion found the minuet Fon Master Guardian quite irritating, hopefully he'd continue to miss. Or so Natalia prayed.

Slow but sure Largo was being worn down. Tear and Jade worried at armor and defense, tossing fonic artes and knives into the melee, blood was starting to patter against the stones. As for Largo's only standing companion... Asch's antagonism had been discarded, smiling wide, gloating over the result of his toss, the Bloody was more than a mite distracted. Still, he was "the Bloody" after all, and while it was unseemly for someone with that nominative to be acting so... childish the dark slant of his humor was understandable. Perhaps it was even Scored. Well, if it was, then this was Lorelei's will, and she'd take advantage of it best she could.

"Ion." Throat tight from dust, lungs burning from running and desert air, her attempt at whispering was broken with a sharp series of coughs. Now both pairs of green eyes focused in her, concern obvious in one set at least.

"Yes, Natalia?" He replied, as civilized as if they were not here. That they were somewhere sane, perhaps having a friendly chat over tea.

Delicate, striving to spare his feelings, the Princess tentatively put forth a mild. "You are aware that as Fon Master you could order Largo to stop fighting, correct?"

"Oh." Eyes widened as the new thought came to roost. Then the expression twisted into a study of utmost concern. Pale, Ion protested. "I…I just couldn't…"

Fighting down a scowl, a battle made harder by the fact that there was a real meaningless battle not too far away, Natalia held her placid facade. When sure of herself, she uttered a sweet. "Why not?" In tones best suited to asking milder questions. Like "please pass the sugar" over tea. Yes, tea, imagine that this was in Batical, over a diplomatic luncheon. Holding that mantra, hard due to the dust and grime that caked her, and the company she kept, Natalia smiled though the edges twitched, just a little.

"Well…" Nipping his lip, the Fon Master fretted, cutely so. "I… it's just… It's dumb…" She nodded, made a soothing noise, and tried to look encouraging. To her friendly front his resolve broke, and tears sprung into his too young eyes. "He's just so _busy_ Natalia!" The Fon Master protested in a tortured rush. "I'd hate to bother him right now!"

Silence, all thought blasted out of her brain by the boy's passionate politeness…. Then the meaning hit, and the silence lingered and changed into a stupefied shock. Then, shocking them both out of the moment, it came, a muffled "murph". Gloved hand clapped over his mouth, Asch the Bloody fought and failed to smother his mocking snickers.

Stamping a foot, the Princess glowered at the murderer. "You aren't helping!"

All but eating his knuckle, Asch laughed till he cried.

XXX

First she'd tackled Anise. Tucked the girl in. Boisterous protests and "I'm fine"'s were easy to dismiss considering the state of the child. Bruises marred her arms, darkened a whole half of her face. Pink sleeves shredded, slices marked by strikes of red too raw to be healing, Natalia set her hands along the jags refusing to apply pressure. Light filled the gaps as she hummed the proper notes to a healing arte, and as her soft chanting went through it's cycles the light went through it's own hand in hand. From vibrant burst, a pseudo dawn, it wanted and faded with a mirage like shimmering sigh and dimming that signaled twilight of a sort… Minor remedy done, she smiled and Anise was prompt in showing off her shock and awe.

"I didn't know-" A soft gasp, another realization. "My face, it doesn't hurt anymore!"

Though feeling woozy, and no little bit sore, Natalia smiled. Taking hurt, half her face suddenly throbbed like bruises in their final stages, a half healed memory. Still, she smiled. Covers set just right, a dusty Tokunaga gifted to reaching hands, all seemed well.

Save, that Anise was over her shock, and frowning.

"What else can you do?" She muttered a touch sullen.

To that Natalia mulled, made a show of it, going so far as to tap a digit against her chin.

"Well…" Grudgingly as if discussing state secrets, she sighed. "You know… princessly things."

A yawn, scowl twisting into a flummoxed pout, Anise pressed despite being tired. "Like what?" The girl whined.

"Well, I get captured really easily. My cooking, per Luke, substitutes as a lethal poison. All my escapes are blotched, and my rescues are touch and go at best."

Pout fled and smiling through dimming bruises Anise giggled. Startled and happy to see that a Princess was like anyone else, and she was more than capable of poking fun at herself, the Fon Master Guardian took the change of her perspectives in happy stride. Proudly lifting her chin up, she showed off Tokunaga and his stitched on smile.

"Don't worry Natalia, with me and Tokunaga on the job you'll never have to be worried about getting kidnapped again!"

And though she smiled and agreed – _through stolen pains no les_ s- and chided – _not so loud, you'll wake up Ion_ \- she wondered. Taking up silent cues she first kissed Tokunaga than Anise despite the girl's protest that she already had a mother. Wishing both a good night, never mind the scene it made, her wishing a _toy_ pleasant dreams, Natalia drifted out. At the door Anise called her name, and obedient Natalia stopped. Small features twisting, not in pain, but something akin, the princess smiled in recognition. She'd been here herself after all, well not literally, but it was close enough.

There were some things you could say without words, after all.

"You're welcome." She offered, forgoing listening to a stuttered apology by acting first. Also, by speaking aloud she forsook any chance of confusion between herself and the girl. "Now, get to sleep."

Closing the door of Anise's suite, her smile fled as the door clicked shut. A worried thought, like and unlike her own, lighted in her head.

_What kind of world do we live in? Where thanks are forbidden, affection constrained, and our lines all pre written?_

Another thought, not her own, forbidden and taboo, still it had been uttered, and she'd heard it all too loud and clear. "Imagine a world without Score, without destiny, without restrictions beyond what we want to endure. A world where what we want to be is allowed, not dictated. There'd be frictions, and wars, yes, but no guarantees. The wise could advert atrocity, not merely sit back and watch it unfold and mouth that damning damned trite of "oh well, it's just supposed to be, so let it be"."

So spoke a God General, one of Lorelei's chosen.

"They called me… the light of the Sacred Flame."

XXX

Horrified it came, a choked question. Hanging between them, like the condemned dead.

"What are you?"

"They called me light of the Sacred Flame." A breath, a pause, they ran on. "They took my name away, and they called me… that…"

To such a stark confession she faltered, nearly stopped. Who in al Auldrant had such power to divest a person their very identity? For such tones did not allude to say… a willing change of nominative but an utter violation of self. Startled by the pain in the man's voice, taking comfort in the form that was so familiar (but untrue, something within warned, it was a lie at the heart of it all) she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Thus encouraged, he continued bitterness sheathed but very much present. "They bound me to a title I've never wanted, a fate I've utterly rejected, and they took my name away."

To that confession she dithered. What did one say to such a violate blend? There was blasphemy in what he said, for defying the Score (even speaking of defiance was the darkest sin, on par to murder) was unthinkable. Yet he'd thought it, acted accordingly. And piled on that sin was despair, loss, pain, anger (so much so she all but drowned only touching its edges). She should reject him, only the damned reviled the Score… Silence though seemed too cruel, but confusion stole all her words.

Tightening her grip, she knew she had to try.

"I… You know…" _His sense of presence his being there smothered, like sand but softer_. "I.. I heard a saying once _." Anise's jeering, to the laughter of all around: There's the school marm, giving another speech!_ "That home is where the heart says it is. That friends are the family you chose. _" A murderer's confession, ash bitter, more than a little bit lost… my friends… I've three I could name…_ "Your self… your being… the Score is just a guide, and all Auldrant accepts that guidance, and the consequences attached to such… submission as you'd call it, are all our own."

A chuckle, soft and a little cruel. "I guess that's why they call you the guiding light of Landvaldear. You could make hell seem heaven with that silver tongue of yours." They took a turn, more by memory than actually seeing. Above the dark didn't seem so deep, an illusion of shapes loomed ahead, a flat span as the stairs broke off and another island awaited there ascent. "Was that Scored, you're soft manner, delicate demeanor, those inspiring words?"

"If you must know." Natalia snapped, all but biting the words. "I was Scored to be tranquil this day."

"Don't be." He suggested archly.

"As for my titles… I haven't earned them… So, please… don't call me by such things."

His hand tightened, a harder return of her gesture, surely she was bruised from such a grip. Still, she refrained from crying out, protesting. "You try." Asch… or was it Luke… countered. "You always strive to better your people's lot, those you know and otherwise."

Ahead, the turn was bypassed and the rise began. Light beckoned them beyond the rises' rim; the illumination was edged with molten gold. It looked just like sunrise, save submerged in this underground world they found themselves in it was smaller, in scope and scale. Thus inspired, the Bloody smiled, nodded to the light. She saw the motion, the nod not the smile, and they slowed their ascent, she drawing her bow, he readying his sword.

"You are the leading light; you have not led because it's a journey that you've started. Braced for travel's rigors, shaped by distances maw, you strive for betterment. Hence the present tense."

A pause, quiet punctured by the creek of her drawing the bow's string, setting an arrow.

"If you were to give up, than the past tense would apply, and only then."

Light ahead, the final steps would be passed in moments. As for what lay beyond it, who knew, even the illumination's origin was a mystery. Perhaps it was the others, hopefully that. A fonic arte to light the way. With that hope taking heart she led despite his protests, turning just once so Luke and Asch could see her smile. Well, it was her hope they'd see it.

"Let us be on our way! I can already hear Colonel Curtiss sharpening his sword of a tongue; we shan't let him prepare a vat of verbal acid as well!"

Perhaps it was that chancy light ahead, the prominent shadows, but she imagined a small smile was quirking the Bloody's lips, that some of Luke's fear was on the decline. Whether that was the truth or not she was unsure. So, unsure, she went forward. Knowing that whatever was going through his head he'd forbade himself from laughter, forbade himself from a confession with substance, so in short, she'd never know because he'd never tell.

For her the pulse of the earth was forgotten.

For him it had taken the place of his own heart. Seeping from the stones into his feet, all to crawl up each and every vein and set his frame to shaking.

_Shaken_

A world away, that damned world he'd never wanted to return to.

" _He's been sleeping a very long while, don't you think?"_

So instead of ordering her to slow down, he made himself keep pace.

 


	10. Shakey Light

 

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 10

Shaky light

Light, was per the Score, one element of many. Ages ago, perhaps preceding the dark ages, light was considered the element supreme. Delicate, yes, but superior to all others for its fickle, kindly, inclinations. Still, to the more pragmatic present, light while useful and elusive was hardly the clean element ages ago claimed it to be. Light could be used as bait in the dark, to blind, to sear; its constant applications applied over time could summon cancer of the skin… In short, it was the same as any other element, safe in small quantities, but lethal in excess.

But somehow, someway, it had acquired a holy sheen, was considered blessed. Perhaps it was a primal throwback to a root species that was almost one and all diurnal. Regardless, when in the dark when one sees light, the nearly universal response is hope, of being drawn. Like moths to the flame, those from above were drawn to the light, and thus drawn they fell into the varied and various traps form those below.

Blinking back stars of pain as she met and went beyond the final rise, Natalia skid to a stop, utterly shocked by the scene before her. Asch, all lost in his troubles, ("voices in my head", or better yet, "a headache" he's snap out, save there was none to ask so there were none to confide) kept going, never noticing how she'd stopped. Well, until he plowed into her. Acidic comments about dunces crowded his throat; they drizzled and died in a choked noise when he blinked back the stabbing illumination and saw.

"Holy Lorelei." Natalia whimpered, green-brown eyes glazing.

Unable to resist, Asch the Bloody quirked his lips into a wry smile, half serious, half in jest…

"Don't swear on Lorelei; don't even _summon_ the bastard's ghost with your regard."

To his blatant sacrilege Natalia's eyes went wide. Humored, the bloody clarified, in a tone far less biting than the last.

"I doubt He'd approve of what we're doing."

Then, knowing she was as guilty as he was, Natalia blanched. Unfazed by such a minor transgression of speaking badly of Lorelei, Asch the bloody chuckled at his companion's naiveté.

"Damnation isn't that hard Natalia… it's just… a different way of looking at things, that's all."

Ignoring him she went ahead, burning eyes smarting, she went to help. Shaking his head, Asch held back, silently weighing Score bound impulse against need, decision reached he followed.

XXX

Face dark with anger and bruises with only a ghost of a stagger to his steps, he pushed past her, past Ion (and only a quick lunging grab on her part saved the Fon Master from toppling over the edge), shoving past all of them Luke Fon Fabre threw himself at Asch the Bloody. Civility, humanity, perhaps even sanity, fled the God General's expression. Descending blade scrapped against braced blade. Asch caught the strike like any other, and while the fonons of earth conflicted with those of air, the soft scream of that fonon conflict attested that fact and was expected, as were the swearing and gasps (well, one gasp, after Asch kicked Luke in the gut, driving them apart) the clash of the second dogged strike… All that was expected, normal…

All in all it was an unanticipated prologue for the madness that followed.

Blade his blade, soundlessly, not softly, but truly deprived of noise. A hum rose than, taking the scrape of steel's place. A hum broke the silence, and that mild discordance caused the very matter between the swordsmen to shatter. From that breaking came a thin line, etched in silver, it rose and fell miming the path of a sword sweep grotesquely exaggerated. Scalding the earth below it, it reached impossibly high to lick at the ceiling above. The earth shook at the silent impact, nearly knocking all and one off their feet. Even Largo, who had stubbornly tried to get a blow in on Jade stopped his attack, whipped about to stare with wide grey eyes at the event unfolding, the large man's scythe smashing into the earth so he could keep his feet. And even that sound was muffled, sucked up by the will of that unnatural force. Waved and wild, like fires left from the passing of a celestial blade, it was impossible to see through the illumination, impossible to see by it. Blinking even after the quickest of glances caused bars of gold to flash behind the eyes. Thus blinded, even when blinking, Natalia held Ion tight, refusing to let him fall.

Mouth gapped open, utterly flabbergasted; Luke seemed at a loss for words. It was; Natalia noted a mite maliciously, the first time in almost seven years that something had shut Luke up. Sand gushed from the gashed ceiling, poured down in a billowing fall that made eyes water and threatened to choke them all.

Her last coherent thought, as the sound and sand and sanity rushed in, was to drag Ion with her when she ran back to the others.

XXX

Blade sliding from its sheath, he paced alongside here, weaving through mounds of dirt, using the flaring light to guild him to the others. Staked to the earth by bone bindings (ribs, she healer's training informed her, with a shiver, ribs _of what_ she more than happy to not know) ribs were set over the wrists and ankles, their arches sliding through pierced fibulas. Thus, though horribly short and horridly constructed, the others were bound. She went to the first, the first person she found, and never mind the ark blue uniform that marked him as a Malkuth. A touch to his wrist confirmed he was living, and that was enough. Yes, he was morbid, and he sported horrible bruises covering his face, and there was a faint flacking of sand on the blood that smeared over his face, he was alive, and that was justification enough. Working quickly she hummed through a quick song designed to summon seventh fonons. Once gathered she set them to work in a quick arte of healing, and with that scanty illumination as her guild she got to digging at the rocky sand around one of his wrist bindings.

_Just don't think about what you're touching, don't ask, don't wonder, don't touch it if you can, work around it…_

Cringing at every accidental touch to the… thing about Colonel Jade Curtiss' wrist, she shivered and put more speed into her efforts. Feeling some slack she braced herself, face twisted into a determined grimace she gripped the… thing… in full and pulled for all she was worth. She fell back, almost landed on Luke's feet. Hardly elegant that, hardly suitable for a princess her falling, but now… right now, just then, it didn't honestly matter. She'd worked one of the things off, and had three more to go, that's all that mattered.

Scrambling over the downed man she worried at the other wrist binding, intent to repeat her efforts –even the fall if need be- to get Jade free.

"Your… highness…" To that question she smiled confirmation, comfort, but kept at her work. A pained hiss made her look up, and red eyes met hers, he was clearly flummoxed. A familiar heat stole over her face, her position was hardly flattering and Lor… heavens only knew what he was thinking. Heavens, why was she blushing? Yes, she was acting unseemly with her obviously wholehearted efforts at saving an enemy of her nation… but… But though he was morbid, and he was bloodied, and horribly smart perhaps he didn't know… He was a friend, one of the few her station would allow. And you didn't leave friends behind, ever.

"It's going to be alright." She assured him, digging quicker now, her hands under her archer's gloves most assuredly filthy and raw. "Everything's going to be fine."

To that pronunciation Asch stirred, she heard it and went with what her ears told her for she was too busy to look up, ( _almost had it!)_ she ordered him about with the casual ease a princess must.

"Luke, please don't just stand there like a lump! The others must be here, find them!"

A growl met her order, and she looked up, seeing pure indignation festering in his eyes. Well, that was irrelevant, his feelings, his mission, and motives paled before the needs of the group. With a glare that said now wasn't the time for revelations she waited out his anger, stopped digging even. Jade stirred at that, perhaps curious, perhaps unseeing, the man's glasses were Lorelei knew where- Green eyes glinted, almost as if reading her thoughts they narrowed, and the previous prohibition sprang back into her mind. A grim remembrance.

_I don't think He'd approve what we're doing…_

Kimlasca and Malkuth were to be enemies, it was Scored. Yet here she was, in defiance of the Score trying to free one of that nationality. Then, to compile trouble upon worry Lu- no Asch, grimaced, rubbed at his head. As if… he had a headache. Blessed Yulia Jue, a chill threaded down her back, what if… what if Luke woke up now? Would he recall where they were, what they were doing? Would he pass out as he had as a child, when the headaches were at their worst? She didn't know, and not knowing scared her.

Still, she should keep him close. So that if the worst happened (Luke waking up, as horrid as that was it was the worst possibility considering how in the thick of it they were now) she could help.

"Help me!" She begged.

To that he nodded, grimacing all the while he went down on his knees so suddenly she worried he might have lost consciousness. He stayed kneeling however, didn't slump, and was digging through a grimace of what appeared to be excruciating pain. Oblivious to all save their labors, they dug frantically. Another falling tug and the other wrist was freed, and then Jade was up, with a gesture he summoned his spear and used it as a lever to work at the binding that Asch hadn't gotten to yet.

"My glasses…" Jade rasped; wincing as unfiltered fonons assaulted the mutilated fonon slots in his eyes.

Wordlessly Asch thrust a pair of bent, broken, piece of glass and metal that might have been glasses in a better time into the Necromancer's hands. Jade fumbled them on, grimaced, and in that moment Jade and Asch made a perfectly matched pair.

Though the name was a lie the concern was unfeigned. "Luke?"

Startled, he lost his grimace, and then it came back with a soft gasp. "I'm… still here…"

But for how long? Watching Luke nearly bend over double, gasping curses, Natalia knew that it would not be for long, not long enough for any weakness to be safe. With a crack the last bone broke, twisting his foot free of the ruins the Necromancer staggered to his feet. Looking to them, Jade's normally omnipresent smile was gone, had long flown, and something like wonder and pain filtered across his face. Limping up to Luke, ignoring skinned knees and bruises, and the like, she sidled up to him and slipped an arm around his waist. With her touch, and insistent tugging as a guild he was able to stand. Or rather he swayed, how horrible he swayed and almost all his weight was leaning against her.

"If you children are _quite_ done we need to find the others." The Malkuthite noted in a crisp, Necromancer-like tone that set shudders down whole legions of children in all of Auldrant.

And though there was light, it was a shaky kind of light that obscured that which needed to be seen and highlighted what never should have been. The illumination highlighted the small slash Jade had inflicted on himself in his efforts to free himself, brought Luke's horrid paleness to the fore, and set the jags of the Necromancer's glasses to glinting like the misplaced teeth of demons. It was… a shaky light at best.

"We're here to stop a war after all, the Fon Master must be found."

"R..right!" Shamed by duty forgotten Natalia hung her head.

Then she jerked, in complete surprise as Luke's arm slung over her shoulders.

"It's going to be alright…" A pained hiss, then... "I promise. Everything's going to be alright."


	11. Unsettling Scores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had far too much fun writing Anise and Jade's banter... far too much fun. After Asch and Natalia these two are my favorite pair, platonically mind, still I tried to keep it balanced.

 

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 11

Unsettling Scores

Her meeting with Tear was… stilted to say the least. Slipping into the Scorer's quarters after her tentative knock had been answer so… abruptly... had been awkward. There was no "please enter" that occurred when she had knocked on Anise and Ion's door, no laid back "It's open" per Guy and Luke's standard salutation. The clipped "enter" had been a bit discerning to say the least. Still, she persisted, refusing to be so easily rebuffed.

So much for tranquility, for taking the smoothest paths. The friction of her defiance felt awkward, like clashing clothes worn at an elegant gathering, or a corset that was just a little too tight. Still, she took the opening and entered. Blue eyes wide, Tear didn't quite gap at her unexpected visitor, but the brown clad woman came a hair from snapping to attention. A nervous habit, a tic, her militant stance. Even as grace was _her_ retreat in moments when things were… less than socially acceptable.

Smiling, pleased to actually know something important after days of travel where she knew nothing more often than not, Natalia chuckled.

"Hello…I…I was just coming to see how you were doing." And though she knew it for fact, it came out, almost stuttered. "Tear… wasn't it?"

To that fumbled salutation, inquiry, all bound by a worn formality, Tear blinked. Then, shyly, she smiled up at her unlikely guest. Tear's smile was small, a guarded thing that perhaps was the norm of Daath considering the other Daathian warrior she knew…

She banished that thought, forbidding herself a grimace at the reminder.

Stepping into that awful silence, never knowing it was strained, Tear offered a meek. "I'm fine, thank you for asking." Then, blue eyes glinting with mischief the woman added. "Natalia, wasn't it?"

From what felt a world away, she recalled her own Score reading for the week before, the reading that was meant to cover these recent, hectic, days. _Tranquility, the path of least resistance, the smoothed ways seek those. Abjure from frictions, and avoid calamity to best lead the People of Kimlasca, the land of the Burning Blade._ By entering another's place, forgoing ceremony and ritual niceties she'd violated the tenants of her own score, forsaking the "smoothed way" by forcing herself from room to room, and forcing out words that she felt she shouldn't' be speaking. Unclothe things, petty sentiments… "Are you alright? Is there anything I can do? Is there anything I could have done better?" she'd cycled around those awkward questions, and in her daring she'd gotten honest answers. Well, except from the Colonel, but that just went without saying.

Concern had been the spur that drove her off the path and to these unfamiliar, unScored rounds. As for calamity, her fight with the three God Generals flew in the face of "avoid". And in that, by acting as she had, she'd sinned. In this string of defiance she'd certainly fallen fall. And…. per Locrian writ her damnation for such transgressions was assured. The consequences would be swift, cruel and bind her to repeat her sins so she would get it right the next time. Certainly, with such a sentence standing over her, Tear, an Oracle Knight, would shun her for seeing…

Startled by Tear's joke, the princess flashed a weary smile, thoughts of divine judgment flitting away.

"I certainly hope so." Natalia mock flared, hands on hips, looking "imperiously irritated" (a rather juvenile title gifted to her from Luke) "If I'm not Natalia Luzu Kimlasca Landvaldear princess to the country Kimlasca Landvaldear than all I know is that I've been saddled with an ungodly long name for no reason at all!"

Blue eyes widened again, the Scorer's face was a study in shock. Tear didn't seem to know what to say just then. Oh dear, Natalia fretted, poise faltering a bit. She hadn't meant to upset the Daathian woman. Perhaps she'd made some faux paux of colossal magnitude, she hadn't meant too… Tear's face contorted bizarrely, all but cementing Natalia's fears, and then suddenly, Tear _laughed._

"Please," all but choking Tear shifted a bit on the bed, an obvious invitation. "The doorway is hardly a proper place for a conversation. Come in, sit down, I insist."

Tension left her, flittering off to that mysterious place where earlier thoughts of sins and transgressions had flown. Over all, it was simply gone… and she was grateful for that grateful for the chance to sit after hours or running and walking and all that horrible hiking. Natalia took Tear's offer up with a smile.

"You look tired." The Oracle knight noted.

"I am." Smoothing the front of her dress, dropping her eyes, Natalia sniffed. Despite her efforts the wrinkles stayed in place, seemed uninclined to go anywhere. "But I'm not so frail as… say Guy and the Colonel insist."

"I noticed." A glimmer of mischief, laughter's ghost, shinned in the older woman's blue eyes. "As I'm sure the Black Lion noticed."

A broken jaw, blows evaded, a strike endured. Such had been the dance of her defiance, the actions of her first battle. And… while horrible and exciting it was done, said and done and per the Score it should be forgotten. However, despite the edicts of Yulia, she smiled, even as she recalled. Surely this Black Lion knew not to underestimate Kimlascan nobility now, certainly he wasn't that thick. And if he did, then… well then he proved that old cliché, about size and intelligence. She said as much, still smiling, striving to appear properly detached, properly noble. Then her green brown eyes met Tear's shining blue, her façade met a Daathian equivalent save that "proper" was exchanged for "serenity". Their eyes met, and their composure cracked. For when they looked at each other, really looked, they saw themselves in the other. Oh, the reflection was far from perfect, there were differences, but there was also a shock. A shock in seeing the illusions of all that were "proper" and "serene" fall apart.

And, in the face of facades being removed there were only two options, horror and laughter, the nature of both made laughter the more plausible of the two.

So they laughed, giggling like two girls flung about by the whims of a mad adventure.

Which they were, and both knew that, so both laughed all the harder for knowing.

XXX

Chocolate brown eyes warmed at their approach. Ever the fighter Anise hadn't taken her captivity idly, had been struggling and straining, and making a absolute ruin of her sleeves and socks. She was similarly bound as the Colonel had been, gruesomely pinned by sickening mantecles, still she had fought was righting…

"Colonel… everyone!" Her cheer tapered off as she counted noses and became aware of some glaring absences. "Where is…"

"Scattered." Colonel Curtiss said crisply. "Natalia, Luke" a breathe of hesitance came before the man uttered the noble's name, but it was only a breath and the man carried on after it's passing. "I can handle things here, please carry on."

Hefting his spear, the Necromancer grinned. The dried blood on his face made the gesture gruesome indeed. Flashing a bright, if strained smile, Anise nodded. A mute "everything's fine" if there ever was one. Though closer scrutiny would have shown that her eyes were most decidedly bugged out, and her smile was like that of a skull's grin, no one was present who cared to see these little things. Too weary to question, scared as well, Natalia wished them luck in her stilted fashion and lead the fading Luke away.

"Colonel." The Fon Master Guardian almost squeaked, for the man was bracing his spear, smile fading into a look of utmost concentration. "You can… umm see… right? Without your glasses?"

"Sight is relative, based on the interactions of the sixth fonon and the receptacles meant to harness it. Jade quipped brightly. "I assure you, my dear that I never miss _on purpose_."

As if that was any real comfort.

"You like me, don't you Colonel?" Anise whimpered, trying her most winning smile, terror stealing the sweet from its edges it looked like the grimace it really was.

"Oh, well you aren't…" Spear braced, the Colonel shuffled to the side by one step, crimson eyes all but pinned on the binding on her right ankle. "…Luke…" A thrust, spear crunched through rock and sand, the blade having struck mere centimeters from her foot. "…for example."

Telling her heart not to pound itself to pieces, (that had been close, way _waaay_ too close), Anise summoned a pout.

"That wasn't very nice Colonel."

Grin back in place, though he was half bent now, using his weight to work off the first manticle, the Colonel favored her with one of his stilted laughs. Surely smiling still, though bent over double, the Colonel worried at the binding. He didn't ask the expected "Oh, and what wasn't nice, Anise?" in that mocking and arch way of his. And while banter would have been a nice distraction, like talking to a witty doctor so you wouldn't see the needle before a shot, she didn't press him. For she, in that frantic moment, almost feared her answers as much as she feared his questions. She didn't know… either the questions or her answers, and that scared her more than just a little.

"Hello…" Jade sing-songed.

Startled, Anise rose, or tried too. Three of her four limbs were pinned in place after all. Still, she craned her neck as much as she could.

"What Colonel? What's going on? Are there monsters, or…"

"Why hello there Tokunagua! Jade chirped, picking up something form the dirty ground. "Did Anise drop you? That naughty girl… she should know better than to drop such a precious thing…" A soft clothy scrape as a leather glove slid over canvas, striking off some dirt. "Maybe I should keep you; I certainly would be a better caretaker than…"

"Colonel!" Anise howled, her small face twisting in utter indignation. "Give him back!"

"But of course." Bending down Jade offered the dusty stuffie, than after a moment's contemplation (she was tied up after all) he set Tokunagua down with careful precision. Plopping the doll on Anise's face so all she could see were those button eyes and stitched on smile. "Now, be a good toy and keep little Anise busy and still, why don't you." A chuckle, and not being able to see what he was doing she didn't dare shiver at that awful sound. "And quiet, she _must_ keep quiet after all, there are monsters about."

Monsters shmonsters. Glowering into Tokunagua's smile Anise stayed still and quiet as ordered. Yeah, there were monsters, that was true, but nothing that could stand up to Luke and Natalia and the Colonel. Of that she was sure. If they hadn't been separated everything would have been fine. Still, that didn't quell her scowl, or her thoughts. Tonight, they'd have curry, extra spicy curry, tongue melting curry… Or rather Jade would be having some, lots of it. Maybe a whole pot. Holding in a grin, Anise waited and tried not to wince as one of the bindings gave way with a sickening snap.

XXX

Ion in hand, face careful controlled, imperious even, Natalia Luze Kimlasca Landvaldear looked into the dust and it's unseemly brawling and stood straight and tall.

"Stop this foolishness _at once_!"

And, to her utter surprise, it all stopped. Jade lost his fonic arte, Sync kicked Guy off of him and twisted to his feet, but he didn't rush the nearest person and restart the fight. The only sound was the sandy hiss and a crash (Guy landing), for a long moment. Even Tokunagua and Anise who was perched atop the stuffed animal's head went still. Largo, preoccupied with working an arrow out of his knuckles still went about his gruesome work, but she ignored him.

"We have Ion, you've lost him, the… the door's open, right?"

Silence, they all stared at him, God Generals and the various important people of Malkuth, and Kimlasca just gapped at her. Annoyed by the fact she was surrounded by a virtually gathering of gapping fish faced fools, Natalia tightened her grip. Mutely daring any God General to try to take him from her, mutely daring any one present to protest.

None of them did, so she pressed ahead. Or at least she had meant to.

" _Wisdom had been gifted to the throne of Kimlasca Lanvaldear, upon golden locks lies the crown of light. With such benevolence, wielded like a sword shall all be lead to prosperity_."

Startled at hearing her own Score recited back at her all without a reading, Natalia stared at the speaker. Asch the Bloody grinned, or grimaced, it was so hard to tell his face scarcely moved at all.

"We have what we want." Asch noted coldly to the downed Lion. "That's enough for now."

"Fah, we're winning!" Sync snarled. "And I don't have quite everything…" The Tempest added snidely, masked face riveted on Ion, murderous intents more than obvious.

Thrusting Ion behind her, Natalia met that masked face grimly, one hand straying to her nearly empty quiver.

"Largo?" Asch prodded.

With a hiss the arrow came free, miraculously only coated in blood, it had missed bone and marrow by mere centimeters in its entering and it's withdrawn. Nearly gasping, folded in half from the agony, the Lion shook his maned head.

"No point…" A breath, he lifted his head, silver locks shivering. "There is no point in pursuing this battle, we have what we want, they have what they want… For now I'll concede, this is a stalemate." Grey eyes glimmering, he glared at the princess. "But don't ever expect such mercy form me again, princess. The Lion does not leave scores unsettled."

Tilting her head, tossing arrogance on imperial, she glared at him from the tip of her nose. "Locrian or personal?"

Startled, the Lion stared at her, eyes wide, than to the shock of all he laughed.


	12. Dark's Rip Tide: part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Iseabail: well this answers your question... roundabout, and only at the start... and further repricutions of his "waking" will be touched upon later of course... but this is the begining of your answer. Hope you like it.  
> KS

 

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 12

The Dark's Rip Tide, part 1

He worked over Ion, she over Tear. Both prisoners were bound side by side, manticles almost touching. Thus both rescuers were similarly constrained, scrabbling at the rocky sand, almost touching. Babbling apologies and utterly contrite, Ion jumped from utter concern "Luke you look so pale, you should rest" to "Oh it's all my fault, if I hadn't tripped that trap…"

Instead of grousing and complaining per his usual Luke dug; face a fierce study of determination. Determination…. And pain…

A world away, an awakening he dreaded, voices sounded. Spanning between here and there, pulling him back to what he hated. Damned and cursed, bloody familiar, as familiar as his name, the vibrations of their building chatter and budding regard served as a quake on the very foundations of the bind. Fracturing the fragile span that bound him to… this moment... the sound was like the tearing of a soul… So, gripping the fracture, holding it tight in desperate hands, he held on. Bent double, sides heaving, he stopped digging. He had to stop; stimuli from both places at once would unhinge his mind.

"A-Luke!" Natalia nagged, only seeing that he'd stopped.

With a grunt he lifted his head, shook it, red hair screening his expression from her but not its awful pallor or his shaking hands. She took the hand nearest, held it tight, as she had done when he was a child, suffering from headaches. As if by mere touch she could grip the bind, heal the hurt, and while in Auldrant such a thing was possible with the application of seventh fonons…

He looked up, the screen fell away, the mask lifted. Desperation twisted his features into a tortured, terrified, front. All in all it was a perfect match for the fear in his stolen eyes.

"I..I can't Natal… It hurts too much…"

She tightened her grip, wished she could hold him close, hold him tight… but such a thing was unseemly, not suitable for… for a Princess of Kimlasca Lan-

Hot and sullen, a frustration that could have been a perfect match for the Bloody's bitterness, her mind rebelled. _To hell with that._

And though unclothe, and though it was dangerous, and foolish, and wrong ( _this wasn't Luke after all, he wasn't Luke never mind what he looked like_ ) she reached across the distance and held him as best she could. Prisoners, sand, and monsters, all forgotten in this moment.

"I'll be alright, let go."

"N.. I.." He shook his head, hands unclenching, refusing to relent he shook off her touch, intent on trying to dig some more. Sweat slicked the insides of his gloves, his hands were spasm steady, little wonder that his grip went, that he slipped, and he went down. Then the pain came, the call of two places and only having one soul, he felt himself tugged back to a place he never had belonged. Fighting, he extended pain, embraced agony.

"No..I…"

His body rebelled, curled, nearly fetal position, oblivious to rocks and grime he was all but embedding in his once white coat he struggled to hold on… But his grip was sweet slicked, there was no way in hell he could hold on…

"Luke!"

Unfamiliar the voice, the call though was all too familiar. Prompted by the fear in that voice he opened his eyes, stared blankly into a woman's blue eyes. Concern, faintly familiar features of the woman Natalia was trying to save.

He opened his mouth to speak, reassure, reject…. but his pain glazed eyes spoke for him.

_Who the hell are you?_

_Who am I?_

_I don't belong…_

Then a scream, he ached to lift his head, but all was dark, everything was black, above and below, and under the shield of dark the rip tides of pull and give snatched him up and he was whisked away.

XXX

_Finally_

_Awake at last_

His eyes cracked open, light should be fading, had flown where he'd been, but the orange red tinged illumination that flickered across his face assured him that here was not there. Brass mask glinting in that light, edges sharp, tainted with the colors of blood, the Tempest reared back and away.

"You certainly sleep deep, for a God General, you know that?" A snicker, surely a smirk. "Not getting, trusting are we?"

He blinked, slowly taking the world in one sensation at a time. Dust stifled his sense of smell, slowly smothered; he held a cough in with colossal effort. Sand and stone was under him, he flexed his fingers… wondering, worrying… salt like grains surely scaled his clenching hands. Oblivious to his danger the Tempest leaned close, a glint of silver not quite beyond the Bloody's sight locked him on the here and now. Meeting the boy's eyes, where they surely must be under the mask, Asch glared.

He let that glare do all the speaking.

Pulling close, hiding the flash of silver with his sleeve, the Tempest purred. "Must of hurt like Hell, seeing that little girlfriend of yours again, seeing her with-"

With a snarl he stood, sprung to his feet. Startled, the Tempest pulled back, pulled back than swung, knife leading. Catching the blade, the wrist that guided the blade, Asch arrested the stroke in one sharp move.

It hung between them, the blade, the murderous intent, cause and clause for a trial in all the civilized world. Looking up from his meal, the Lion stared, considered, than took a bite out of an overstuffed sandwich, indifferent. The Commandant wouldn't know of this, unless Sync tattled, and even then he wouldn't care.

_Such charming people you travel with…_

Smirking, recalling the attempted subtleties lost in desperation's rush, the Bloody smiled. It was a rueful grin, without a bit of bitter, without a touch of hate. Surely it confused the Hell out of Sync, for the masked face was riveted on him, and the wrist was still. They boy hadn't tried to wiggle out of Asch death grip just yet.

First mistake.

Tightening his grip, crinkling his eyes, the Bloody glared down at the Tempest, hate back, reinforced by the brats acidic mockery. Turning on his heel, unrelenting in his grip, Asch took the Tempest out for a spin, literally, with both arms locked on the boy's wrist and all the strength in his arms behind it he was able to throw the spry God General quite some distance. Not over the edge, wasteful that, but into the nearest wall.

And Sync hadn't thought his fellow God General ruthless enough to do that, he'd let his surprise freeze him up.

And that was the Tempest's second and final mistake.

Looking up at the loud crack, Largo glared, definitely irritated. Brushing sand off of his hands, the Bloody met the Lion's gaze.

"What? It's not like he didn't ask for it."

And to that spat of adolescent reasoning the Lion raised one bushy eyebrow, but said nothing as Asch padded up to the fire that Sync had lit with a fonic arte and set himself before it. He remained silent as Asch took Sync's half eaten sandwich and tore off the part Sync had been eating. It was a lightly toasted contraption, heavily garnished with spices and the like that told all and one that Largo had been the one cooking. Pulling off the top of the meal, Asch meticulously picked off this and that oddity he didn't like, tossing it onto the fonic born flames Sync had summoned.

Only once, did Largo speak, something too leaden to be curiosity housed in the Lion’s gaze. Still, it was expected, and Largo, ever a victim of predictability, had to say the expected.

"What were you up to, Asch?"

And, to that, Asch folded, meeting steel grey eyes with his green ones. His own eyes… not the eyes of the Dreck… there was a relief in being himself again. One he tried to not make too obvious.

"Taking a nap." The Bloody answered breezily, taking a bite to stall off other chatter. He'd missed some of those cursed hot Habanero peppers, nearly died as a result. "Score's damnation Largo! Habaneros in a _sandwich_."

Amused, the Lion smirked. The expression was half dead in the man whose heart was long gone. "Only because I thought you might do _that_." Inclining his huge head to the downed Sync, the Lion chuckled. "You aren't all that mysterious…Sahguan. Despite how you like us to think you are."

Considering the barb, Asch considering giving like for like. Decision reached he simply pulled his meal apart and began to pluck off the peppers he'd missed on the bottom. Content with remaining silent, the Bloody kept at his work for a while, and then Largo cleared his throat. More out of concern of being beaten to a pulp than any respect, the Bloody looked up, considered the Lion.

"What are you up to, Asch?" The older man pressed.

Green met steel grey for the first and final time in that day.

"Eating." So saying Asch took a bite of his meal, choking down the over spiced tidbit with scarcely a wince. "We can't go after them with Sync banged up like that. Something might eat him."

"Like you care." The Lion noted astutely. To that accurate observation Asch didn't wince, didn't even fake a wince.

"I don't, you do, and that's your problem."

Dropping his gaze, Asch took another bite.

"That gel of yours… I'll need it for my hand."

Considering how it had been used, the Bloody smirked, pulled his water canteen off his belt and took a draw.

"Now, preferably," the Lion snapped.

"So sorry," tone anything but, a smirk well in place, he bloody well was not, and the pun made his smirk degrade into a smile. A throwback to the boy he'd once been. "I used it."

When?" The Lion snarled.

"In the fight," then, twisting the knife, smile became vicious, perhaps a touch mad. "On the girl who shot you, the princess, the one who may or may not have crippled up your hand. I thought it was… fitting." Asch took another bite.

"You bastard!" Largo roared, surging to his feet.

"So I've been called." The Bloody noted calmly, taking another nip.


	13. The Dark Rip Tide: part two

 

Flicker of Judgment

The Dark Rip Tide part 2

"Guy… please get down from the chair."

Guy Cecil, blue eyes bulging, hair a frazzled mess, mutely shook his head. Clearly the chair's height wasn't enough distance for after daring one step despite Guy's babbled protests of "pleaseplease please go away…" he hopped onto the back of the chair. Perched precariously on his tip toes, and the tips of said tippy toes curling back for good measure Guy stopped hyperventilating. Taking heart form that sight, Natalia waited, not quite daring a second step. Had she, she was sure Guy would have thrown himself into the wall in a mad attempt to get away.

Never mind that there was no window.

Head cocked, carefully still, Natalia ticked his breaths off in her mind. Pacing time against tempo, waiting until his gasps lost their ragged edge. Closing his eyes, face flushing a familiar crimson, Guy finally hopped off the chair's back and sat himself. It was hardly dignified, more of a plop, but she didn't criticize.

She also didn't enter; she took her usual place when visiting Guy, leaning against the door frame, watching him with curious hazel eyes.

Once upon a time she'd have scolded him. Told him to grow up, ordered him to get over his Gynophobia. Perhaps she would have moved to help him, offered a light touch, a soothing remark. That was… once upon a time ago, when she was a stranger to terror.

Now, knowing what she did, having learned the depth and width of terror this very day, Natalia simply smiled encouragingly, but did not leave her place at the doors frame.

"Wh…" Pale, shaking, he tried a smile; and it didn't fail despite knowing what she did of his terror. "What's going on, your majesty?"

"Nothing much, I'm sorry to be a bother, but I'm looking for Luke. The Colonel said he was in this room."

To that Guy shook his head, gold locks obscuring his eyes for the moment. "Nope, he was, he left a little bit though. Said something about a headache and taking a walk."

Concern clouded Natalia's features, and to that Guy's eyes narrowed, a little bit. Not overtly hostile, but an expression that was a touch too dark to be mere curiosity.

"Your majesty, do you know something I don't know about this?"

"No." Shaking he head, the princess sighed. "No nothing at all."

"He's been awful quiet." Guy noted, turning away but not so much so that he couldn't watch her from the corner of his eyes. Well aware of that, Natalia shrugged, tried to appear nonchalant. "Withdrawn even."

"You know Luke, he isn't one to say what's bothering him. The fact that you pried out of him that he had a headache is a wonder in and of itself." The princess said lightly.

"Pht. I know Luke, and the second he's in pain he lets the world know." Guy grumbled, arms crossed over his chest he studied nonexistent scenery through an equally invisible window. "Before the kidnapping he'd of been like that, you couldn't have pried out of him a word if he was in agony, after… he's more open, more honest…"

Shaking his head, back to her in full. While unspeakably rude it was a necessary trick that helped him talk to her, to help him forget that she was what he feared most. Her gender stood against her when talking to Guy, and though he strived to be polite, to shield her from his terror and refrain from letting it alienate them both… it was the root of a great deal of tension between them. In his mind his terror was insurmountable, a block between himself and nearly half of Auldrant. To her it was a child's fear that had been left untreated, and untreated it had festered, warping one man about its rigid patterns. It was like a little boy being scared of "cooties" save it ran rampant in the nearly adult person's soul. Guy snorted, oblivious to the delicate mix of scorn and pity in her eyes for he never turned to check.

"I'm half a mind to think you know something." Guy groused, suspicion taking place of his usual cheer. "And I'd like to know what it is, your majesty."

She should, and could have been within rights to argue with him. That she was not hiding anything, and that she knew nothing… It was a temptation, the heated words hung about her tongue, dangled like venom from the serpent's forked organ. She could have invoked his terror, enhanced it by breaking from their unspoken little rule. She striding forward, taking that taboo second step, perhaps tipping him beyond coherence with a third step, violating the invisible line of his sanctuary with mere presence.

She could have. It would have been appropriate, suitable for someone of her rank to demand someone of his standing's respect. And seeing how he was safely beyond giving her even a ghost of proper mannerisms (how _familiar_ this journey was making him with her, had she been in Batical his flippancy would have gifted him the lash if her Father had any say in the matter) his fear could have made a suitable substitute. It was a nobles right, after all, to be feared, if respect was not given.

Not only was it right per social norms, it was _a_ right, a law enforced by the sacred Score. The royals lead, the people obeyed, without confusion, or questioning. Thus all would find prosperity all the quicker. And, this… this utter lack of compliance went beyond disrespect, and sniffed about the edges of sacrilege.

_We aren't in Batical princess…_

So recalling she smiled, though the truth was bitter as bitter as the man who'd shown it to her. Turning on her heel, adamantly refusing to be a child, she simply left. Her nitpicking over rank, here or all places, now, would have been beyond infantile. And she was not going to get into the adult's version of "liar!" "Am not" "Are too" with an adolescent. Never mind she was an adolescent herself. She strove to be beyond her years, in wisdom, and courage. Thus, while recoiling form childhood's most basic antics, she embraced another. That of being what she wasn't just yet.

But she needed to be such things, adult, reasonable, mature. Responsibility before privilege divested her of a childhood, added invisible years that while unlived were expected to be experienced. Hence all her education, her breeding, the centuries of history and diplomacy she'd read, digested, and was expected to be able to emulate at a moment's notice.

Leaving, she hadn't bothered to close the door, leery that if given the opportunity she'd have folded to temptation and slammed it at her back.

"Princess…" Guy yelped, she was already in the hall, intent on being gone she'd never noticed him struggling to master his fear, muster enough courage to cringingly follow her for a few feet.

She stopped, stunned that he'd follow, stunned that he'd come so far without panicking. Startled, she turned, saw the pinched pale face that reinforced how unnatural he'd found this. This… gathering of courage against what he'd always feared. To that she lost her anger, her disappointment, and dredged up a smile.

"We are not on the Kimlascan side of the border, aren't we Guy?"

To that unexpected tangent the servant blinked, expression obviously flummoxed. "Y… Yeah.. I mean, yes your majes…"

"Then, please… just call me Natalia."

A pause, he took a breath, a deep one, as his thoughts crashed against the will of her desire and everything skidded to a halt.

"That's… a lot to ask your ma- Natalia. It's not proper." Guy rebuked, dutifully correcting himself at the repeat of her request, the subtle glinting in her eyes all the repetition he'd needed.

"None of this is proper, none of this was Scored." She murmured, turning away.

"I'm sorry your- er Natalia, did you just say something?"

"Nothing," Now she feared, the familiar, the set. The pulls and eddies of impulse and foreordained. What if they were the same? That thought made her shiver, no longer offered a comfort. One man's doubts, accusations, and comfort was unmade, unwinding. The security blanket of an ultimate promise, prosperities surety, was coming undone at the barest of tugs.

She clenched her hands into fists, hands hurting, newly formed callouses burning.

Concerned, Guy braved another step, and then terror took him, made a horror of his face, flushed his features, and made tortured orbs of his eyes. Still, he took that step, than another, until all the distance between them was crossed. Breathing hard, shaking harder, he reached out, lightly touched Natalia's wrist. She hopped, and he held back a scream all his own. His barest of caresses had startled her out of whatever grim thoughts held her and bought her back to the present.

She looked at him, face tinged with red, hands trembling, it was so strange to see her _this_ shook. And to that strangeness he acted beyond his scope. "What's wrong, Natalia?"

A pause, she steadied herself, stiffened, taking that distant stance of imperiousness that most mistook for arrogance. It wasn't, just a defense, still it was bloody irritating. "Nothing's wrong." She murmured, eyes dropped, properly demure.

And utterly irritating. Checking back an "ung", too much like Luke, that, Guy smiled instead.

"Alright, if you don't want to talk to me about it, that's fine." Letting his hand drop, Guy told his shivers to come back some other time. When the door was closed and the room was empty and he was laid out on the bed. That would be best, granted he wished he could have just willed them to go away altogether… but he knew better than to wish for the impossible.

Still stiff, distance returning, she listened to Guy's steps withdraw, at the threshold of the door, his door; he stopped, considered her through dimming fear. Concern returned, and a different type of fear nipped at him. A fear for her, a fear of the distance she was holding between herself and everyone else. It wasn't healthy, wasn't right, he'd have said as much but she was still enough of a Royal to get ruffled by such things.

"Just promise me you'll talk to someone about this, alright? If not me, than someone else, alright?"

She looked up at him, startled again. Her surprise took the stiff out of her back, brought her back to here and now quicker than before. So, she hadn't wandered as far as last time. Good for her. Still smiling, rigid lines of terror on the decline, he offered her a two finger salute, one he'd of offered Luke at the end of any closing conversation.

To that, she smiled, nodded. Recognizing and promising all in one go.

XXX

When the light died, she knew that things had gone from bad to worse. Dark, familiar cursed dark, snapped over her eyes snatching up the details, and shapes, and colors that had been her sight. Still, this time, she was prepared. Crouching low, without seeing, she drew and set an arrow. While not an arcane battle fonist she was capable in the art of the seventh fonon. She used the element to enhance her Landvantear tactics. Light, steel grey, golden about its edges, glistened along the angles and lines of the arrow head.

It was a shard of sky, snatched up during the predawn with a ghost of sun's coming in attendance. By that sketchy light she sought, aimed, and fired. In moments Tear was freed, no digging required for this rescue. Please she would have gloated, save a nervous tic had caused her to realign her quiver. The minimal clack and clatter of the contents within had set her hand to questing, counting feather's by touch, and the closing tally brought no comfort, stole her satisfaction.

Three arrows, three shots, and when those ran out… She'd be as helpless as Ion, for she would be unarmed without even a ghost of an idea of how to defend herself.

"Natalia…" Speaking of Ion, the green haired fon master squirmed as much as his bindings would allow. "It's… a mite uncomfortable, being umm… tied up like this and all. Well, I was wondering, if you had a moment…"

She smiled, though the dark was back and surely he couldn't see. Still, she smiled, just in case the light returned. Perhaps it was in truth she hoped what he couldn't' see he'd feel…

Scrabbling at the sands, hands worn and surely bloody, she labored. Wearing at budding callouses and rocky sand with impunity. If Ion was curious as to why she was digging him out he didn't ask. Perhaps he had seen, made a quick tally by chancy light. Perhaps it was simply a matter of faith for him, so sure that the Score dictated she would save him that he did not question the means.

"Luke!" Tear's voice sounded a touch stern, no little bit exasperated. Ear worked at their second problem, even as Natalia handled the first. "Luke, wake up!"

Recalling, talks of slits and instability, Natalia dared to intervene.

"He can't, not now."

Silence, than hesitantly, disbelief obvious. "He won't?"

"Can't" Natalia corrected, and if this was the treatment the woman normally bestowed on Luke it was little wonder he'd been so standoffish of late. "He's unconscious… it happens with his fits. It could be hours before he wakes up, and we know fonic artes won't work."

A pause, then tentatively, Tear dared. "Perhaps a healing arte, a Daathic one…"

Natalia blanched thoughts of fonon bombs and the like dancing in her head.

"It won't work." She whispered, than louder. "Tear, there's nothing we can do now, please, help me here."

Gentler than the last, softer, perhaps even tender, the Oracle Knight muttered. "Alright, I imagine you know what's best…"

A shame he'd never head it. That he couldn't hear it now. Natalia thought bitter thoughts, worrying at sand around bones. A rustle and soft scraping in the spans that she wasn't digging told her Tear was hard at work as well.

Idly she recalled promise, made and broken. _Everything will be alright…_ Stopping, for just a moment, she looked with blind eyes to where Luke lay. And, she wondered, hoped that that what was sworn wouldn't be broken. But, in her heart of hearts, she knew it already was.

A crippled bird could not be expected to fly on clipped wings, it was impossible.

So you never hoped for the impossible, never prayed for it. The Score told you when things were possible and not, told of all and the place for all, and assured you of prosperities glories if each motion was carried out just right. In the Score there was no impossible, merely people and places, and lines all pre-arranged.

Her eyes burned, the earth under her shivered and shook, what was felt had elevated from vibration to audible. Whatever was coming, was coming, Score dictated or otherwise, was well on its way. She worked harder, through burning and blurring eyes that couldn't see.

And, she thought of birds, of all things. Birds with clipped wings, clasped in pretty cages of gold, that were expected to sing sweet little melodies at their owner’s behest.

A pull, bone snapped in her grip, ripped form the shaking earth. Blind, she reached for another.

XXX

She felt pulled, bound by self-set obligation she'd wondered here and there, nearly everywhere. Satiating curiosities and soothing worries, by presence and banter. A touch there, and effort here, and she'd been useful, felt accomplished for being useful. After all, by her will one hurt had been mended, and one horrid distance bridged, certainly that was enough for one day.

Still, she felt unsettled. A disorientation of sorts, and a glance out the nearest window told her why.

The sun was setting

Then, a pattern remembered, a realization met. _It was time to go to the study. Father would be done with his duties, she was well done with hers, and she'd ring the bell and summon a servant. Dinner was prearranged by the kitchens and Score, there would be no mere ordering for either one of them…_

Yet, Anise had cooked their communal dinner. Shredded beef, a slice of pale holey cheese, toasted or not by the eaters request. All of that jammed between two pieces of peasant brown bread. She'd eaten already.

Father's voice, a memory often relieved for it was a pattern in their lives, one made of mutual consent, nearly nightly:

" _And what did you do this day, my dear?"_

Present now, a precarious present hung about here. She was unsettled, recalling the old patterns yet unable to live them. She was without servants or service, her clothes hardly fitting the royal table despite being finely made. They were dusty and spattered with poorly cleaned off blood. Her hair, though straightened and smoothed by a brush, seemed darker for not being clenched with the finest tonics and cleaners gald could buy.

Alone in the hall, each color of the decor teal and blue, declared this the Malkuth side of the boarder. Scandalous surroundings for sure, a noble of Kimlasca should not be here. Hardly scandalized, she looked down at the darkening world and shivered.

For being "enemy territory" held by "villainous Malkuthies" it looked the same as any other spot in Chesedonia. Dusty and dry, dirt roads packed tight by those who marched to commerce's call. If it weren't for the sky blue drapes framing the view she would have been sure she was on the Kimlascan side. Closing her eyes, Natalia listened and though the window was shut and sealed (and locked as well) she was sure she would hear voices. Some accented, some not, hawking and haggling.

Suddenly, selfishly, she wished for a little time. Time to wander the stalls, to just mosey about. She wished the sun to go back a ways to grant her that time.

But Rem was oblivious to one girl's wishes. No matter how important she thought herself to be.

And to that revelation, on top of so many others, Natalia considered grousing. _Surely_ she had earned a sulk all things considered. A bit of movement, a flash of red, stole that thought. Smiling at that bit of familiar red and off white (with the chancy light of Rem's descent white seemed grey, perhaps black) she forsook petty things and grimaces.

Instead she raced down the stairs, carelessly tossing open the inn's front door. She forgot to close it behind her despite the innkeepers hollering at her back. She forsook such things as manners and doors, and other petty things in a sudden rush of enthusiasm.

"Luke!" She called, spying that bit of red, his hair, about ready to round the corner. "Wait, please!"

And, wonder of wonders he did. Wait for her that was. Curious, how he didn't turn at her approach. Peculiar that. Still, it was Luke. His coat was most definitely white, its snarling monster stitched upon the back contemplated her every motion. The coat's twin tails were stained a nasty brown, his pants were torn from tumbles and falls and the like, and his boots had long lost their glossy sheen form the treks beginning. Still, this was Luke, wardrobe tribulations aside.

Wasn't it?

Suddenly unsure, she hesitated. Heart quickening it's pace, she licked suddenly dry lips. She tried his name once more, just to be sure.

"Luke?"

A moment passed, than he turned. Expressive features placid, controlled, contained, whatever emotions he felt were confined by effort. It was an obvious effort, but it was new, strange, and no little bit frightening.

She couldn't read him. The man who always wore his heart on his sleeve was impossible to figure out in that moment. This kind and blunt man she was to marry was a stranger. She didn't know him, couldn't call on her years of experience to pick out the contents of a single thought.

Save for ferocity, there was something there that stirred his soul so much that his eye seemed broken, shattered, the green in them quaked.

Tight, voice bound till smothered, he spoke in a horse, tired voice. And there was bitterness there, not a surface of sulking, but deep and pain filled bitterness.

"Natal?"

Impossible! Heart hammering, throat constricting, she stared blankly at the young man whom she'd known her whole life. And once again confronted the stranger.

A stranger who was hauntingly familiar. One whose confessions she'd witness. One who held her innermost secrets and fears, held and knew them. He was a stranger who wasn't. Tentative, she took a step, not quite believing this was happening all over again.

"Asch?"

His laughter, bitter and biting, was all the confirmation she needed.


	14. The Dark Rip Tide: part three

 

Clicker of Judgment Chapter 14

The Dark Rip Tide, Part 3

_Hell's gates are cast in bone. The fate of the defiant intellectual is to be imbedded amongst those bones, their bodies added to the groaning white mass. For the damned, the truly damned, are permitted voice and eyes. They see the grim congregation pacing into Hade's depths. And ever curious, they are left to wonder, and ever compassionate they seek to warn, enlighten as they had in lives agone._

_Such wasted, bitter, lives._

_They spent the whole of their existence testing and wondering. Defying Score bound routes with their impious queries, seeing impossible complications, they moved to act, to warn, protect. Thus, Scored in their defiance, Scored in their failure, they died only to be reborn as screaming sentinels at the gates of beyond._

_Doomed to mouth those impossible warning upon the unhearing masses, to repeat their mistakes again and again._

_Submission, you see, child, is the way, the route. Those who defy, question the Score, are ever punished with repetition of their sins. Only when one submits, consents to the Will of Lorelei and makes life paradise by fulfilling the Promised Prosperity, will those fallen and damned souls be freed of their wailings._

_In his mercy, Lorelei will rise them up, divest them their damnations, their bindings of bone, and set them amongst us. To live again, to live the glorious patterns set for us all._

_And all repentant, cleansed of their punishments and their sins, they shall do so. Pious, humble, enlightened, they will serve as an example for us all._

"Of curiosity and defiance", Locrian writ, Book of Daath, canto 12, verse 29

XXX

Though muffled the words distorted by closed doors and unwilling ears snippets resounded. Discordant notes in an agonizing score. Mainly his words were clear, occasionally hers could be heard, both were shrill with indignation and their discordance set lines of anxiety on sleeping faces. One set of eyes were pulled form a book being perused,, set red eyes to narrowing, but the owner of both book and eyes wasn't one to intercede in the affairs of children. So he carried on, indifferent to the turbulence about him. The other, whom was awake, simply stuffed his head deeper under the pillow, and wished it over already.

"You know what, Nat? You call me selfish and all but compared to back there you're the selfish one! Selfish and stupid! I can't believe you can't tell us apar-"

"I made an honest mistake, Luke, I didn't mean-"

"Shut up! Just shut up and leave me alone!"

A sound, a feminine noise more pain than coherence, a males' snarl.

"Do I look like I care!"

"I'm trying to apologize, that alone should make you-"

"No one _makes_ me do anything!" Luke Fon Fabre roared. "Leave me alone!"

Silence, a door opened than slammed, hers. Then, after a sullen laden moment, Guy heard the door to his and Luke's room smash open than slammed shut. Lifting his head out from under the pillow, Guy considered his irritated Master. Red hair frazzled, green eyes glinting as their owner hovered between outrage and tears. Raking a shaking hand thought his locks; Luke paced the room, without any regard for his roommate. So wound up, he didn't even know Guy was there, wasn't aware Guy was trying to sleep.

Finally, when it became clear Luke wasn't going to simmer down on his own, Guy sat up. Swiping at sandy eyes he missed Luke's hop of surprise. Still, those wide eyes told the tale. Amused, the blonde swordsman yawned, slumped against the wall.

"Wha's it?" He muttered muzzily, blue eyes vague but fast becoming coherent.

Surprise left Luke in stages. And being Luke's best friend, Guy had the dubious pleasure of seeing and recognizing them all. Composure somewhat reclaimed, save the shivering about his eyes, Luke hovered between anger and tears. The Noble drummed up a semi-normal grunt that was supposed to say everything and skip language. Not _that_ in tune with Luke, Guy took his cues not from the sound, but the other little things. The nobleman shook, though he held himself tight, he glared at the air over Guy's head, and let out another sullen harrumph, but adamantly refused to meet his servant's eyes.

Really worried now, Guy left his slouch and sat up. Chasing off what sleep he could with a sharp shake of his head.

"Luke... you OK?"

The click of Luke gritting his teeth was audible, that and the unpleasant grinding of tooth against tooth. Finally, anger left him, he slumped, the tears won out and with a wounded sniff Luke threw himself into the nearest chair.

"Nat," The name, each and every syllable really, shook as the heir fought off tears. The wet lines that ran down his face told Guy without doubt it was a lost fight, still Luke carried on with trying to act normal. Lifting a hand, waving it about as if this was just any other "I'm irritated with her royal annoyingness" rant, Luke crossed one leg over the other. "Is the biggest jerk in Auldrant, _not_ barring Tear!"

Considering having been the sounding board for all the anti-Tear, "how dare she not like Master Van, she's soo cold", rants Luke loved to go off about Guy didn't have to fake a wince. Whatever had just happened, it must have been bad. Really really really bad.

Taking a deep breath, knowing that it was best to be braced for stuff like this, Guy drummed up a comforting smile.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

Luke shook his head, tears still going full tilt, he resolutely looked beyond Guy, through Guy, but not at him. More than worried now, Guy stiffened out of his slouch, scooted to the bed's edge. Getting as close as he dared. When those green eyes widened, looked at him with surprised misery at their core, Guy stopped. Knew that was as close as he was going to get.

"Tell me anyways." Guy ordered, dropping the "nothing's wrong" grin. "Talk to me about it, tell me, we'll take it from there."

"It's stupid." Luke sniffled, shock slowing the tears, something like warmth taking the bitter edge off the confusing morass of fear and betrayal and… just everything that'd happened that day. "Really stupid."

"Then tell me about it, prove it's stupid, and I'll make a joke of it or something." The servant offered brightly.

To that Luke laughed, startled at his own mirth, the sound was short and quick, ending with a face so confused it made Guy laugh.

"Yeah, like that." Guy encouraged.

And to that encouragement Luke smiled, fear finally being chased away for the first time all day he grinned that reckless smile Guy liked so much. That smile that made him look so… so young. In that moment he was hardly a nobleman's son at all, hardly a man intent on saving Akzeriuth. In that moment, with that gesture, Luke was a kid, and that made Guy a kid, and despite all protests and aspirations for maturity to the contrary Guy loved it.

"Alright… if… if you say so…" Luke hesitated, still smiling though; he hesitated, not wanting to bring _it_ back up… But Guy had told him to face it. Not with so many words, but with an offer, and to that offer Luke fon Fabre folded. "You're probably right…"

"Always." Guy assured breezily.

"That'll be the day." Luke snorted something like his familiar arrogance creeping back into his tone. "How do you know you'll be right in advance, huh?" To that Guy admitted defeat, lifting warding hands against verbal blows, and Luke grinned. Cocksure, confident, than he blinked, his eyes… stung. Lifting a hand, tracing the side of his face, Luke was surprised to feel bits of water along his cheek. Drying, slowly and surely drying, but the discovery startled him. Stoll his pride and sobered him a bit, it stole his smile.

"Luke?"

Forcing a grin, forcing it wide and reckless, Luke Fon Fabre shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Don't make me make you talk." Guy mock threatened, hand closing over the hilt of his sword. Save he wasn't wearing his sword, his blade was safely propped up against the far wall of the room. Still, he wielded air threateningly enough to make Luke's phony smile turn genuine.

"Whatever." The noble huffed.

XXX

Crisp and clipped, the Necromancer quick marched to join them, a dusty Guy in tow. Fifth fonons dripped from the man's digits even as he walked, sizzled as they hit sand, and etched the space around the blue clad man in ghastly reds and ghostly oranges. Face framed round by smoke, eyes peering through shards of glass, the Necromancer grinned brightly.

"Hello all."

Beyond snarky salutations, Guy shook of his dazed state. A quick look around confirmed that everyone was alright, save one. Half sagging under the weight, Tear was struggling to pull Luke up to his feet. Though groggy, the red head's physical reflexes were somewhat there. Though his green eyes were horribly glazed, it was impossible to tell if Luke was trying to help her or beyond them all.

"I got 'em." Guy offered taking a few steps, then he stopped, stiffened, recalling what Tear was. "If… if you could let him go that is."

Gently levering Luke down, Guy waited until Tear had taken a few steps back. Once it was safe, Guy came forward, snaked an arm around Luke's mid section and pulled the woozy swordsman to his side. Once sure his mast was steady, he pulled up, warning and cajoling, and for that warm chatter Luke seemed somewhat more inclined to obey. He actually set both feet down right on the ground, swung his head about, as if trying to see.

Whatever Luke was seeing clearly wasn't what they were, for he whimpered and cringed from something that wasn't.

"Luke, man, open your eyes for me, alright. Look at me."

Muzzily Luke did as ordered, after looking the wrong way first. A quick glance into Luke's eyes, a tally of symptoms against action and Guy's lips pressed into a thin line. He turned to Natalia.

"A fit." It wasn't even a question.

Natalia nodded.

"Voices?" The last came out tentative, a quick glance at Jade more than warning enough not to be too specific.

"He... didn't say… just said he had a headache, and he was acting a little strange."

Guy nodded at that, his blue eyes promising a lengthier questioning later. Master in hand, Guy grunted, half protesting at the weight.

"I hate to say it, but of all the rotten times…"

The earth shook, snarled at their backs. From behind, perhaps at the swells of sand that Natalia had traversed earlier, came the most awful of coughing sounds. It was the slow choking, a dying man's final breathe, saved it did not cease after its first exhalation. And like the snarling, it drew closer, too close.

"As fun as this is." Anise chimed in, looking up from her examination of Ion, and once sure he was alright she tabbed in her piece. "But we really need to get going. I don't even want to _know_ what's back there."

To that Natalia nodded, instinctually setting one hand over her quiver. Three arrows, three shots... There was no comfort in that. Then, intruding on their thoughts, interrupting this impromptu reunion, sand exploded, rose in hissing jets and set choking clouds to rolling in and muffling the light.

Still, the light remained, and it was enough. Pulling an arrow free, Natalia spied movement, and acted accordingly. One arrow drawn, the bow creaked; she sighted and fired without a thought of arrow count or wisdom.

This time, the dark screamed, surged forward, and on the edge of the Necromancer's light stumbled a human form that wasn't. Sporting a blunted snout and grotesquely large buck teeth, it staggered amongst their midst. Pebble eyes flaring, a lump of stalagmite held high. Huffing and coughing, exhaling sand and dirt from its airways, it staggered at them and glared at her with murderous eyes. Flicking spear sharp ears that jutted from the side of its head, the beast looked at them with a wounded man's cruel cunning. Snouted face recoiling in a whuffing snarl, it let out a muddy grunt and rushed into the light, broken shard of earth held high. Staggering back, Master in tow, Guy dithered between wanting to attack and wanting to hold Luke up. Hesitance slid over Jade's face, for to cast one fonic arte, even to summon his spear, would banish the light.

Anise, Tear, not possessed of such reserve and restrictions drew knives and stuffies respectively, more than ready to fight.

Another creek, another twang, a red arrow sliced through the dark, looking black in the throes of velocity and the chancy light. Sinking in, quivering to a stop, the beast crashed to the earth, the monsters flawed fonons dispersed as it melted into sand before their startled eyes. Still, the skull remained, dissolving's aside, and the arrow in its right eye socket told one and all its cause of death.

Checking her count, one arrow remaining, Natalia simply slung the bow back over her back.

"Even pan's have eyes." The princess explained in a shaking sick voice.


	15. The Base of Prayers

 

Flicker of Judgment Chapter 15

The base of prayers

_Author's note: A rather short chapter, focus' on Jade, I lost perspective again and Jade takes the lime light for this segment. Only a few more to go, once they are out of the temple in the "past" timeline this story will be over. I've plans for a sequel, we'll see where that goes._ .

Reunited, they ran. Too much was at stake for them to stand and fight, though bravery should have held them in place, tales of glorious last stands and the like should have coaxed them to remain.

Reality intervened, saving them from foolishness. Known to one and all was the fact that battle was not glorious. Bravery wasn't worth dying for. And then there were those piddling little facts, for example: The group's sole battle fonist couldn't cast spells least they all fall into darkness, Ion was weary, Luke's very mind was wounded, and Guy and Anise were too busy helping Luke and Ion to do anything in the face of a fight.

Not without abandoning their charges, which they adamantly would not do.

So they bolted, howls and roars from the dark gaining at their heels. At a narrow walkway they stopped, turned, the path split in twain, both routes leading up, only one of them truly leading out.

"Go ahead!" Natalia snapped, indicating Guy and Anise to take their responsibilities and flee. "We'll stay a little and then catch up."

A bitter parallel that, if any saw it none commented.

"Hold till I return." Jade commanded, fire still flowering between his blue gloved digits. He seemed oblivious of the molten drizzle between his fingers, how it hissed spitefully before his feet. Smiling brightly, smoke coiled about every angle and jag, the Necromancer assured one and all. "I've got the route memorized."

Voice rose in a glorious hymn, Tear stalled for time, summoning a violet hued barrier by exposing Lorelei's glories in proper tones, making the proper genuflections and stilted gestures. Not understanding the language, for the song was sung in ancient Daathic Ispanion, and that tongue was a different beast preceding _normal_ ancient Ispanion by four thousand years Natalia was left to draw her own conclusions as to what was said.

So drawing from fancy, and perhaps revelation of the hour past tinged her thoughts. Left with her overactive imagination she placed words to actions, and wondered if the prayer went something like this.

_Grant us protection. Adverting fate not intended, Oh Lorelei, guild us in your grace. Show us your mercy._

Biting her lip, setting her final arrow in place, Natalia looked by violet light. She looked into faces of nightmares, for pans were the stuff of child's tales, to scare the good little boys and girls of Auldrant the world around. Tense, she listened to their coughing sickness, watched sand slide from their frames, and saw something massive and ridged sliding closer and closer towards the illumination. Then, it came, crushing the crowding pan and their stone bludgeons, it glared at them with nonexistent eyes, elongated jaw hung open, screaming soundlessly, it plowed a dusty shoulder into the obstruction that pulsed in time with Tear's chant. Bones, her mind told her, massive bones, a creature so far gone by dust and silent decay of the desert that all it had left of itself was bones.

Fresh bones mingled with the aged; even in this Lorelei given light she could see that.

And for seeing she nearly screamed, only terror of startling Tear out of her casting held her cries in check. So, horror realized, she tightened her grip and waited. One shot, it's all she had left, all she had to her name. It would count; it must, so she waited for the perfect moment so she could _make_ it count.

She'd hardly consult with Lorelei about the timing of such things, she would have to just trust in herself.

XXX

"Your majesty?" Crisp and proper, with even a salute added as an aside, Jade approached her. When her tears were all but dried and nature's call had coaxed her out of her quarters and into the inns public bathroom. Business of an indelicate slant done, she was weary and worn, wanting nothing more than to go back to her bed and sleep the night away.

For it was night now, the sun had long fled, its memory and light just a figment of the imagination.

Still, it had not been a surprise to see the Necromancer strolling out of the dark a little ways away. Navy blue uniform nearly a perfect match for the halls gloom, his frame obscured by the deepening shadows, she should have been surprised. In truth, she was worn, ragged, and tired. She only wanted to sleep.

In that state, nothing would have surprised her. She turned to his salutation, a half smile brushing her lips.

"Good afternoon, Colonel Curtiss." She greeted him.

With one digit he set his glasses in place, fresh glasses from his packs that had been left at their previous camp. There was nothing of demon's teeth about his red eyes, nothing of demons at all.

Save when he smiled, as he smiled then, at her, just then.

"Evening seems closer to the mark." He noted mildly, still smiling, ever smiling.

All his demon teeth were in attendance.

Still, she chuckled, as he anticipated she would. The princess forced a smile though she'd rather frown and make a show of her tired state. A man named Necromancer would hardly be acquainted with compassion after all, so she made no show, didn't have the energy to draw attention to her state or even comment on it.

He'd either notice or not, that was in his hands.

"I'd like to have a word with you, your majesty. If you have the time." He murmured, ever polite, red eyes gleaming. He indulged in a throwback of sorts, acknowledging her nobility and status by speaking in stilted formulas. He was so sure that she'd fold to her Scored fate, to be tranquil, that she'd seek the energy to trod the smoothest path if need be. A quick chat, a few moments, tranquility upheld, his answers gotten, then bed.

Not too long, he'd make sure it was quick, and then send her off to bed to face the marrow with only an hour or two swiped out of her sleeping needs. Young as she was, she'd be fine, old as he was… he'd endure, and perhaps tease them all about it at the right opportunity.

When and where his brand of jocularity would be applied, only at the good spots, his standards of humor would of course set the template, never theirs.

Meeting his red eyes with her own, she considered something, perhaps not him, perhaps something beyond him. Holding her secrets close, wielding weariness like a shield, she ceased to smile. All but wilting before his very eyes, she fell into herself, slumping just so.

Overall it was a nice, if over dramatic, show of weariness on her part. He'd have said as much, but wouldn't want to ruin her little act. Pointers could perhaps come later, if they ever got more familiar. Or… perhaps not. Then she could amuse him with her bad acting all unknowingly.

"Good night Jade."

Surprised, he watched her start to go. Not quite flabbergasted, but a little unsettled at how flippantly she ignored the calling of her own Score. Tranquility and all that had been the advice of the moment. She'd heard Ion declare it for her that day over breakfast, as had he and all in their little group. The fon master, always eager to help, was happy to toss out quick Score readings to one and all over omelet and porridge. He'd spread the words of prophecy and guidance to prosperity like one would set jam over toast, and done as familiarly besides.

"You were… quite friendly, child, with the God General, Asch the Bloody."

She stopped then, and had he stripped his statement of its slight paternal shadings… it would have been a perfect echo of a certain red heads furious statement an hour ago. She winced, as he'd picked at rather raw wounds. Still, it was the cleanest way to check for infection, to stave off… complications.

"Whatever did you talk about?" He asked, brightly, lightly.

Grudgingly, her hands fisted, this was no flippant revelation, she muttered. "In.. the battle… after Largo hurt me… He helped… I thought he was Luke. He said he wasn't."

"And what about after?"

She stiffened at that, in indignation, shock, horror, he couldn't tell. She never turned to face him, and bereft from seeing her expression he was left to guess work. Hardly satisfactory that.

"We've something to discuss, I think." Jade noted, only that.

"We've nothing to discuss, I'm going to bed." Natalia snapped.

Anger, interesting… Mind whirling, thoughts purring, the Necromancer would let things lay, for now. He studied her, her retreating frame, still smiling all the while. Save for his eyes, the smile never touched her eyes. Watching her walk, weary, truly weary, his chuckle stopped her at the door. That and his call.

"Natalia." She paused, at the threshold, thinking perhaps of nothing save sleep. "I've heard you ask, the substance of prayer."

A prayer, the exact prayer had been Tear's fonic hymn. Perhaps it was a passing curiosity that had made her brooch the topic, more likely it was a means to keep tattered conversation flowing so they wouldn't see her -or their own- wounds garnered from the activities of before. Still, her question had caught his attention, and he'd answer her that even if she adamantly refused to answer his own.

"Prayer is part faith, part submission, doled out per Locrian mythos Lorelei granted Yulia her prayers but demanded she submerge her own wishes and wants to the drive of the Score."

She turned then, and he saw the tears that gleamed about her eyes, tears and doubts, both were plentiful and painted plainly on her face.

"In the face of that… standard… what worth does it hold, to question the words?"

Hand clasping the knob, she considered, his statement. Compiling that consideration upon Tears evasive words, the curious looks from Ion and Anise when she'd asked. What worth indeed?

"Perhaps the question had more merit than the answer." Natalia hazarded, closing her eyes she set her forehead against the grain of the door. More to the door than him, she spoke. "Curiosity for curiosity's sake is not a bad thing. Nothing bad has ever come of asking a question, seeking the truth, wanting an answer."

Recalling certain… facts. Thoughts of fonimin and its attendant madness, the Necromancer's biting chuckle roiled about the hall. The sound was vaguely reminiscent of damnation, perhaps speaking of damnation seen, devils evaded.

"Your majesty-" Again he recalled, this time a talk with Guy shamelessly overhead, he corrected himself idly. "Natalia." Another recollection, a gamble this time. "Natal."

That word was a blow, she stiffened, eyes wide, agonized.

"You have Luke, your Luke, bound to you by marriage and promises. And you love him. You encounter a man who could very well be Luke's twin, a bitter mad-man of a man who resembles him so very much… Don't confuse the two, that's all I can ask of you. No matter how much alike they are, do not confuse the two or misplace your affection."

The door opened, and closed, slamming… If not in his face, close enough that the impact caused him to wince. From the noise, he assured himself, he flinched from the noise and its suddenness and nothing more. Assurance done, he settled his perfectly aligned glasses once more and let out a tired sigh.

The human only had one heart, he knew this from work with the war and previous forays into dissection and the like… It was a shame that such a violate organ, all lost in its wild gyrations, was so vital for life. So vital, so small, so... singular. Better men than him had grieved that, better men than him had discussed that topic in all its aspects, philosophic, metaphysical, even breaking it down to bare physics to show what was well known.

The heart had limits; faith had limits, bound as both were in bars and bone nothing less could be expected.

Sliding his hands in his pockets, Jade Curtiss, AKA Necromancer, AKA Colonel of Malkuth's forces, let out a tired sigh. Better men than him had grieved, and since they had done so, he wouldn't waste the time. For a moment, just a moment, he loitered by Natalia's door. Carefully listening, cleaving to silence. Her sobs did not go unnoted. Any feeling they dredged up in his ice seeped soul did.

Perhaps there was tragedy in that, sadness. All bemused though, by the whirl and click of his thoughts, dwelling shattered mirrors and stolen reflections, and twists and changes, Jade Curtiss could not be bothered by matters of soul and feelings. He had things to do, questions to answer.

And answers to fear, knowledge to hoard and divulge only until it was needed.

There was, after all, a danger in curiosity for curiosity's sake, horrors that could be answers could unsettle the mind, and truths best left censored could destroy nations.

He'd seen it all before.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note to those reading and an intermission of a sort... well quartermision (sorta),
> 
> The "hoping back and forth between time" particularly in the Dark Rip Tide sections was something of an experiment at the time of original publication. Looking back.. it was /hard/ to pull off and at the orginal site I wondered about clarity of those sections and what I could do to improve it. I still can't see if or where it gets muddied... and was wondering to any reading... are there section in that span that are unclear? I'm afraid I am too baised to see it myself and am hoping for an uncluttered opinion.
> 
> And in closing, I will probably be out of touch for a while on this site update wise. Personal matters demand my attention. However I will reply to comments when I can. This seemed a natural place to cut off my editing and posting efforts for my break. I hope the fics been enjoyable up to this point, more will be up in the course of the next few days.
> 
> Kasan

Flicker of judgment

Chapter 16

Gentle Delusion

She woke as she'd sought slumber, unutterably tired, defeated, and worn. Shaken, shaking with nightmare and bitterness waiting on her like over eager attendants, she greeted the day with only a ghost of her usual cheer. Still, she stood, stretched turned to the nearest window to greet the morning.

Save there was no morning, not quite yet, anyways. The sky was a hue akin to burnished steel, and the view outside allowed no view of the planet's fon belt slots. Bundling her blankets about her, she considered the view, a wistful sigh turning the corner of her mouth down. Blockish building tops and burnished steel, all shrouded in grit collared dust. She yawned more on reflex than commentary of the sight before her. Starting day ritual done, she sighed. Wishing, as she had every day she woke before the others, for sights of spites on high. Always she waited for the sun rise, to catch the steel and edges and set it to glittering like slabs of misplaced gold.

The… phenomenon… was only common to Batical however. And no matter how early she woke anywhere else it wouldn't be seen, no matter how much she missed it.

Longing never brought you what you wanted, only actions, striving, seeking.

And Lorelei's grace, Lorelei's mercy, Lorelei's will….

Checking a shiver, she pulled the blankets about her tighter, staring unseeingly at steel colored skies.

" _Surely with such gold if we gathered it all there'd be enough to make sure no one was poor ever again!"_

_Eagerly she'd shown her red head playmate the wonder and he'd nodded, green eyes shining. Like hers' he was taken in a rapture of sort. Pleasure in seeing a promise made and fulfilled so easily. There was… a joy in that… a quickening of the pulse as hope and dreams filled their vision and offered them more, so much more…_

_Hand in hand, perched on the tallest tree in the royal gardens, they looked down at Batical, their city, a city of gold. One promise made, one fulfilled, with it tended (for she'd tell father of this right away, and father could do anything) they could work on the other four… or was it five promises? The count hardly mattered right then. Giddy enough to be frivolous; she decided then and there that the number scarcely mattered, merely the effort and completion._

_A soft gasp, pained, snapped her back to reality. To the real. Eyes now seeing, she looked at Batical, and it was much the same as before…. But no matter how hard she looked, it was gone._

_All the gold, it was gone, all of it!_

Her eyes had burned, then as they did now. Then... then she knew what she'd grieved, now… She let out another soft sigh, the sound shuddering a bit about the edges.

She didn't know what to grieve, what to do, even what to say.

She should have stayed in Batical. She was Scored to stay in Batical. It was her place to be summoned to Akzeriuth at her proper hour. Yet here she was, far from Batical, a nation away, seeking solace amongst the Malkuth side of the divided world.

And it was morning; the steel was paling to blue before her very eyes. The square slot of sky afforded to her by the window was quickly taking its proper hue, ringed round by blockish buildings and rimmed with dust; the sky was driven on through its own cycles.

It looked to be a beautiful day.

XXX

It broke, so beautifully, Tear's spell. In bits and pieces its pulsing lines snapped like shards of glass, flying outward, the crackle of their break almost musical, their luminance grudgingly fading even as they flew. Like stars, she thought, being smothered by morning's light.

Save there was no morning, not under here, no morning, no dawn. Only dusty air and skies of stone. Insane, inane, she pulled her bowstring taunt, set her final arrow in place just right. One shot, she'd have one shot and she'd make it count. To that resolve reality showed her a horde, of Pans lead by a bone behemoth. One shot, against all of that, stacking odds and options she knew she was better off not even trying.

Still she held her shot ready. Not willing to let go, not willing to back down.

Resolve set, she stood in front of Tear. Ready, and more than ready to fight, even though battle was the same as to suicide in this fading, fallen, light. A protest, voice hoarse from continuous singing, Tear still tried to protest. Still, her words were forgotten even as they passed her lips.

Natalia had heard it all before.

She should hold back, she was royalty, a princess of the Kingdom of Kimlasca. Her life was more precious than those about her. Royalty did not wage battles, did not seek war, it was improper. Nobility were to be restrained, reserved. Even in their caring.

There were limits, her father's voice droned, ever in her memory. Ever her guild, even as her hand picked up the bow for the first time. Always limits, limits of Lorelei, of Score, of birth. We can neither rise nor fall beyond those limits, merely seek serenity in that which was given to us.

A bitter thought, given an acidic voice, not… recalled… but presumed… blended with her curiosity. Her mind wound questions and statements in her mind, muddling her thoughts but not interfering with her aim even as dazed Pan and monster Behemoth's looked on. Thus, we strive to make ourselves tranquil under the drive of the Score. Yet, doesn't striving imply a kind of resistance? If we must strive, not merely be _, but strive_ towards this so called tranquility than doesn't that allude to something unnatural?

The path of least resistance. That was her Score this day, she was to seek the path of least resistance, hold to it, to be still and let fate tend the paths for her, tranquility should have been her means in all encounters, abjure from confrontation and conflict.

Lips quirking into a wry grin, Natalia lifted her point of aim, and fired. Steel struck bone, skipped hollowly in the cavernous socket where an eye should have been, digging in so deep not even the tip of the fletching could be seen. And… expectation aside… perhaps there was an eye within the dark, for the beast of bone threw its head back, sand pouring from the hollowed arch of its throat. Arching and dancing in agony, the monster's mad gyration on the thin walkway set Pans to flight, the falling kind. Those safely in the back wheezed dirt clogged curses they dove into stone. Soundlessly burrowing into sand, earth, seeking solace in the earth to escape the beast's rage. Their fleeing caused the solid to ripple and the very base of Auldrant absorbed each beast with a discordant pulse.

Hence the pounding from before. They'd traveled so close to the very core of Auldrant, walking upon the very backs of monsters, all unknowingly.

A true God help them all.

With a sickening crackle the last of the runes shattered, their illumination fading so fast all light was gone before the fragments stuck the earth. Skull face thrusting on a neck as slender as it was long, tongue-less jaws sagged open, the beast thirst. Thirsted for the only substance its hollow throat could partake. That of rending, that of screams.

XXX

Windows and walls had narrowed her perspective, made it seem picturesque, by virtue of a frame. Her rooms, cooled to comfort by magi tech devices had shielded her from the heat of the day. Thus, mildly deluded by the throes of optimism and distance she descended the stairs, answering Guy's "where are you going?" with a light "Out."

Raising an eyebrow, bonelessly sprawled in the inn's lobby on a cozy looking blue couch, the servant opened his mouth to say something.

Such was the scene Jade interfered with. Tucked in a corner, tea cup in gloved hand, unobtrusive as only a man in a blue uniform could be when he matched the blue walls, Jade cleared his throat. Thus breaking the minor spell of "don't look at me, I'm blending in" is stillness and luck of wardrobe had produced. Clearing his throat, the colonel drew both blond Kimlascan's attention, and seeing he had them both he flashed a trademark grin. Clearly he'd been practicing, for his baring of teeth was precarious. Not a "sends shudders down the children of all Auldrant" smile, rather a "I'll just traumatize the children about me" smirk.

Suffice to say, Guy wasn't the only one to shudder when those crimson eyes locked on them both.

"Going shopping, your highness?"

Thinking of bronze stairs… of all things… Natalia flushed. Shifting from one foot to the other she suddenly found herself stripped of words. And, perhaps it was early, but she thought of Ramdas with is wry smile, knowing eye, and all. A recollection of almost ten years ago flashed through her head, and the flush retreated.

"Yes."

Lifting his cup, smile still in attendance, Jade dropped his gaze. Breathe scarcely stiffing steam, the colonel cooled his tea with delicate little breathes. Studiously studying ripples in the brown, the man called Necromancer seemed content in his silence.

A little startled at the disjointed feel to a perfectly pedestrian conversation, Natalia dithered. That decided Guy. With a twist and push he was up, sitting up, anyway. A sharp shake of his head set the edges of his mussed hair out of his blue eyes, able to see a bit better the servant smiled.

"Want some company?"

Mouth opening, gratitude forming on her lips, Natalia nearly said yes.

Not wanting any of that Jade let loose a wry chuckle, and to that both blondes stopped mid conversation. Consulting his ripples, reading steam, Jade took one sip under their supervision and looked up. His red eyes were shivering with a nearly demonic quickness. His grin was a devil's delight, with those red eyes gleaming so.

"Really Guy, you've gotten over your Gynophobia, I see… I'm a little hurt you didn't tell us all. Still, I suppose some congratulations _are_ in order.

"Um… well…" Nibbling his lip, Guy cast Natalia a weary look, suddenly recalling her gender. "It's just shopping. And as long as you don't touch me…"

"I'll be careful." Natalia promised.

"We'll, if that's settled, let's-"

"What will you be buying?"

Natalia's flush and stiff silence answered that question well enough. To that Guy realized, blanched… realizing... Mouth moving in a mute "oh" he slumped back into his chair, utterly defeated by his phobia.

So much for company.

Irritated, embarrassed, (after all moon day supplies weren't all she was going to buy, there was a matter of arrows to consider) Natalia whirled on Jade and his corner. If glares garnered venom than Jade's tea would have had a dollop of Auldrant's most potent venom added to the brew. Perhaps two, she was feeling "generous" in her own way. Since glares were just that, glares, Jade sipped his tea, unconcerned.

"Have fun." The Necromancer purred, and in their meeting eyes were words unspoken. About questions evaded and suitable revenges inflicted. Knowing better than to even _try_ a rebuttal Natalia whirled on her heel, reaching the inn's door she wrenched it open and slammed it behind her.

Though childish the sound cut off Jade's mocking laughter, and for that alone it was worth it.

 


	17. Tapping the Walls part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: In which Natalia taps against the fourth wall… roundabout… but why not? 
> 
> Also I had a windfall of time so I am going to upload all of the "Tapping" chapters for today and indulge in a few day's lull.

 

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 17

Tapping the walls, part 1

Heat swept across every inch of her skin, and Rem, known for his gentile lamination seemed to have developed a cruel side just for this span of Auldrant. Thirst, which had been a niggling concern became a driving need. She swallowed, wished she had thought to bring… well anything to drink, and settled for swallowing instead. She'd endure, for now. Thus resolved, face flushing from the potent mix of chagrin and heat; she left the inn and its inhabitants behind.

Gone from sight, gone from mind, so went the saying and its attendant drive, thus she followed the route. All unseeing she wended into the sun blasted world outside. A day old, she adhered to the God given instructions from before. She took the main road, than deviating from the flow of pedestrian traffic, than on a whim took a few turns off the smoothest path. Never mind where she was going.

Mere minutes out, hopelessly lost, with only some Gald in her pocket and the clothes on her back she wandered. Feeling whimsical, unrestrained, smiling all the while. _So this was freedom_ , came an idle thought. Her smile widened, though surely it made her look the fool. A disquiet ghost, restraint, discipline, she was breaking both, rejecting the very Noble life she'd been Scored to live…

But, in this moment, throat burning, sun shining, she could not be bothered to care. This was her private little adventure. And… if she was to be vain enough… she thought of this little foray as an aside to the greater tale. Certainly it would be a wonderful tale, for its very act had wound the diverse personalities of political import from each corner of the world together. And they were to do good things, to save Akzeriuth in the end. So, she perversely took comfort in the thought of potential predetermination (ironic, for its surety had set her to shivering mere hours before) as she went on her way.

If this was a tale, if begged the question as to whom the author was this day? Was it Lorelei, or consequence? The truth scarcely mattered. The question had more merit for the thought it provoked than the answer it produced. And that was enough. She wanted a walk, to see. So she walked, and saw. Marveling at color, there were a multitude of colors. Tents alongside dirt roads though rimmed with dust had hearts of crimson, blue, teal green. While the red and blue were to be expected as they declared the nationalities of Kimlasca and Malkuth respectively she was humored at the green one. Daath's official color was white after all… and there were no other nations that existed to take such a garish hue as their own.

So, curiosity drove her on. Flicking a quick glance to mind the traffic, though pedestrians seemed the norm the roads were large to allow the occasional dragon driven cart and being squished was not the way she wished to end the day. Natalia wended across the road. As with all the tents about its front was thrown wide, a table masquerading as a stall –for it had a roof, mind it was the tent's roof, but there seemed no standards here- had been jammed in front of the opening. Goods of the non-necessary sort stood on display. A quiet call, than peek in the tent confirmed that the owner was absent; a brave thing to do considering this place had no knights. Picking up one bit of merchandise she smiled, as outré in hue as the tent itself, the items spread on the table were vibrant. Eye catching was not the word, and she laughed softly, twirling an odd contraption between her gloved fingers. Lorelei's grace! Was she seeing a stick with a string on it, for sale? It seemed as practical as a box for sale! Still, entranced, she handled the…toy. It had a cross bar, like a sword's hilt, the ball was heavy, an odd squishy substance painted red, the string gave generous play. Still, what were you supposed to do with the thing? Thrusting it about, first one way than the other only set the ball to jiggling on its leash. Suddenly, on impulse, she tried another track. Not quite throwing the stick, keeping her grip loose, her pseudo throw was enough to set the string to flight. Sweat had slicked the inside of her gloves this hellish hot day. With a soft gasp, she tightened her hold, not wanting to break it and by accident she twisted what she held. The cross bar, by sheerest hap stance had been angled just right and with a resounding clack, the ball smacked into wood, bounced, and began to descend again.

A twist of her lips, a turn in her grip, she laughed. And, because she understood the rules she set to follow them. It figured that she'd miss. With a yalp she dropped the toy, arm smarting. Yulia, whatever the ball was made of, it was hard! With a shake of her wrist she glowered, grumbled, but eventually stooped to pick up what she'd dropped. Sand mixed and muffled the glitter in its nook and crannies, she swept off what she could, twiddled the toy in her hands.

Should she try again?

There was no one about, the owner had not returned, no one in the pedestrian mob seemed to care.

Why not?

Still, playing? In public no less! A princess should not play, it was undignified and… And the glitter caught the light just so, tempting her. The pain in her arm forgotten she set the string to flight, minding the ball's fall. She'd... hardly… fail… at… besting… a toy! Thus she thought, so she danced, one step at a time. She twirled when the sluggish motion of her fingers seemed to doom her hand to another bruising thwack.

A snigger snapped her out of it. Startled, she turned wondering who would have the audacity to laugh at a Royal. The ball struck her arm again, harder, at the same spot. She checked a cry of pain, nipped her lip, and all undignified considered the stall. No longer empty, it housed toys, knick knacks, and a woman. Tucked in the pea tinged shade within the tents confines, details all but lost amongst boxes in the back, a woman sprawled. Setting her cheek against hard wood, the shade from within obscured the details of her dress and frame. Save her eyes, they were green, familiar in hue and slashing intensity.

And her smile. She smiled warmly, humor lighting eyes that could have… should have been bitter. Not leaning forward, as if fearing to dare the day and the vindictive pounding of Rem from on high, the woman seemed more than content to watch the princess' antics from the shade.

"Do I scent a sale on the winds?" The woman purred, her voice was husky, her smile dimmed so the teeth weren't so vigorously bared.

Glad to see a gesture of mirth that wasn't a Necromancer's grin, or shaking about the edges as its owner fought and failed phobias, Natalia smiled back. Not her normal smile, small and restrained and oh so painfully proper, but a child's smile. She was only seventeen after all, some foolishness was acceptable. In truth, that's what she should have thought. In truth, she thought of nothing at all. Her wrist smarted, but that was minor, her ego stung at her failure, but she was learning.

"I would say you have quite the nose for business." Natalia conceded; bobbing her head as was proper when meeting someone whose rank she was unsure of. The gesture was neither submissive nor assertive, merely habit's handover. Green eyes glinted, the woman considered her from the dark, and met concession with a chuckle.

"Noble, Kimlascan?"

"Maybe," Natalia hedged, drawing closer, though the woman hadn't beckoned. Horrible manners, that, but… she was curious. The woman wore red, crimson; her hair was a crimson hue too. Though the dark made it hard there was monotony to the hue that alluded to dyes.

"Name?"

"N…" She stopped, recalling lessons in caution. Blue was the redundant theme of the tents about her. She was in Malkuth territory now. As a Kimlascan, she had to be careful. "Natal."

One moment passed, two. The woman stared at her long and hard, stiffening just so. But, whatever caused the start went unsaid. Forcing her smile back in place, gathering some of her old ease about her, the woman in red tried and failed to look as she had before. Still, there were differences. Some of the patronizing went out of her tone; some of the humor fled her eyes, in that not all the changes were good. "I'll be damned, small world. Noir Scarlett, young miss."

"You… know me?" Natalia dared.

"Of you. About you. I'm rather close to a young fellow who thinks the world of- Damn…" The last came out as a hiss of shock. Natalia stiffened, would have turned, save those eyes. Familiar in hue and cast, bored into her. Warning was etched in their green expanse. Noir nodded as if indicating her inventory. But the subtle hardening of her gaze, the crinkle about her eyes made that nod an order. Baffled, heart quickening, Natalia complied. A folded mirror had been propped amongst the items, set just so that those looking down could see into the street.

The sight that awaited her set her to shivering, and all the warnings in the world could not stop her.

Though his back was too her, and he seemed absurdly small, there was the Lion. His steel grey mane cut off by the glass' edge, his scythe little more than a black bar by virtue of reflection. But it was there, and he'd turn, he'd see her and…

"Don't get scared on me." Cool hands, callused and firm, settled on her wrist. "Don't shake, don't turn, just walk around casual like, there's a side entrance to your left. You come in, like you work for me. Got it?" She was released, and a hissed "Don't nod!" stopped her before she could well... nod.

Trying not to shake, pale and suddenly cold, Natalia did as she was told, taking to her left. Hoping and praying that this Noir knew what she was doing.

For old fear had revisited. She was without arrows, with only the clothes on her back and the gald in her pocket. Her charisma had done nothing against Pans, it would do nothing against a Lion of Largo's stripe either. So she followed the path set before her, not the Score bound road, but the one offered outside it. And as she moved she tried not to shake from the sacrilege of it all.


	18. Taping the walls part 2

 

Flicker of Judgment Chapter 

Tapping the walls part two

Slipping in as instructed, all but snatched and dragged in once she crossed the threshold, Natalia was… hardly used to being manhandled so. Oblivious or perhaps indifferent to the rank of whom she handled, the woman in red… this Noir, wheeled her to the back of the tent. She was only mildly surprised to see the tent had a back door or sorts, a sizable slit facing the alley behind the tent. It was just big enough for Natalia to slip through if she ducked. One imperious tug by the older woman encouraged Natalia to bend over double, take a step, and just come along.

The shade from the alley was deep, dark, and after the glaring light of the sun she was almost blinded by it. Blinking, heart quickening… images of pans dancing though her head, of all things- Natalia stopped. Adamantly refusing to move until her vision cleared.

Seeing the stubborn set to the princess' spine the woman in red leaned close, her breathe a hiss in the girl's ear. "We don't have time, dear. Not unless you want to be sticking out like a pretty doodad on the Lion's blade."

Checking a shiver Natalia shook her head. Surely they weren't in that much danger. Surely…

A fist smashed on wood behind them. Bringing forth images of titanic strength and a maned head balanced on massive shoulders. A calloused hand loosed her shoulder to snap over her mouth, muffling Natalia's involuntary whimper of terror.

And never mind the danger of the moment, her own admonition against speech, the woman hissed a bit louder. "Son of a bitch saw the mirror, maybe saw you… Goddess damn it!"

"Merchant!" A familiar, Score cursed familiar, voice boomed.

A soothing caress, scarred fingers teased the side of Natalia's face even as the hand let go after a playful twiddling of the hair. All earlier anxiety had fled; a smug smile turned the woman's lips.

"Go on. I'll defang the Lion." Reaching out, pulling open a door so decrepit its handle nearly popped off at the tug, Noir tilted her head. Clearly she wanted… something. Not knowing what the gesture was supposed to mean Natalia stared blankly at the woman. Heaving a sigh, the woman hollered out a "Company's comin'" into the pitch black room than nudged Natalia. A quick glance up the alley, to the tent told Natalia the rest. It was either "in" or be a doodad on the Lion's blade.

Not really wanting to find out what a doodad was Natalia timidly crept into the dark. The door slammed at her back. It took effort, hellish effort and a bit lip besides, but Natalia kept from squeaking at the sound, but only just barely.

"Lorelei's balls, I'm comin'." Noir brayed over her shoulder, twirling about so her skirt chased her heels. Red shoes snapped against dusty cobbles, Noir wended her way up and back. "You break one bloody thing on my display and you buy it you oversized lummox!"

Largo’s rebuttal, whatever it was, was too bestial for Natalia to gather the words. The tone though made it more than obvious that she didn't want to know. Leaning against the door, she shook, as realization set in. One tent, one woman, ten steps, and a decrepit dust logged door. That's all that stood between herself and one of Auldrant's most notorious murderers. Fisting one hand, she nipped her knuckles, knowing better than to whimper, or cry out.

_All she had was the clothes on her back, the gald in her pocket… and that had been enough._

She was such a fool. Epiphany hit, her eyes burned, as did her face. She was such a fool, little more than a little girl, a spoiled noble out in the world all on her own. Staring blankly at nothing, sheets of dark falling from an equally dark ceiling she was forcibly recalled of dust and stone ceilings. Only the bitter brittle reek of paint mixing with the dust held back the memories, and that barrier was thin. As thin as this would-be safety.

One breath, another, slow, shallow. Fighting off panic she blinked back tears. Tried to see, but it was too dark. Then, there was light, a glimmer golden tinted and muffled. Ghosting behind the sheets, it's holder screened by canvas, she spied scenes in the edges of its illumination. Some were sylvan, others ice clogged wastelands, fanciful one and all, such was the stuff painted on the sheets of canvas hanging up high, draped down low.

She stood in a prop room, even as the light drew near, it's holder a black blur still separated by a overdressed curtain, drawing closer she looked about. Two steps away a proper sword, set to look like a Locrian blade, by its side a shield painted blue and brown. A rustle drew her gaze, snapped her attention where it should have been, to the span of the world above and ahead. A black gloved hand had thrust the final sheet aside, its digit’s were wreathed in golden light. Those gloves were familiar, their red etchings had swam in her vision even as their owner had slid each digit over her face, checked her pulse, tended her hurts. After a struggle and a few shakes the gloved hand was able to get enough lee way and the owner of the hand strolled out of the dark, carrying not a fon tech light but nothing more than raw seventh fonons 'tween his fingers.

Such was the source of that golden illumination. Green eyes stared at her, rimmed in that golden light it was impossible to tell but surely he paled as he realized… Red hair riled, he stared at her for a long moment, swallowed, then, finally.

"Your majesty." A whisper, he bowed, hands held to his side, fonons flickering between his fingers. The light was all but gone, save illumination's ghost, its edges all in gold. This time she felt no impulse to shiver, so she smiled instead.

Thus were the differences in meeting, between this time… and the last.

"Hello Asch."

Lips quirking, in a gesture so small it must be genuine, the man called "the bloody" smiled.

"I take it… you're the company?" He murmured, green eyes canting off to the dark. Hands sliding away from his side the light returned stronger than before for not being muffled. From the edges she saw fanciful scenes again, was tempted to look about. Resisting temptation, she nodded instead. Eyes only for him.

"Yes."

A snarl from behind the door and up the alley snapped them both to reality. Largo's voice rose to a thunderous bellow as did Noir's. The racket made Natalia start, caused Asch's smile to widen. Clearly Largo had caused some sort of damage, Noir's resulting profanities were beyond description. Spitting words so vile the Princess shrank back from the venom laced syllables though she was not the recipient, an idle wish filtered through her brain, she wished that she was young enough that she could cover her ears and not look the fool.

"Come on." His smile fading, failing in stages, he reached for her. The light dimming about his fingers until the dark was nearly perfect, the details were lost.

Just as it had been before.

Calloused hands closed over her wrist, pulled, gently coaxed. Daring one step, then another, she drew near. A chuckle, bereft of humor, slipped past his lips.

"What is it about you that draws danger right on over?" The Bloody groused. "I _was_ going to take a nap, you know."

"You normally take your sleep in oversized sheds amongst props?" Natalia bantered back; it was so… easy to talk to him. Too easy, scarily so. Save that fear… was selective in it's coming, visiting only when he was gone, right before she took to slumber. There were echoes in this man who looked so much like her Luke. Chilling echoes, for a man who'd been raised and trained hundreds of miles from Batical had no business looking and acting so much like her betrothed.

"It gives Sync fewer opportunities to poison me, or stick knives in my back." The Bloody returned, meeting repartee for repartee. He paced her step for step intellectually, even as he ushered her along by hand. His touch light but firm, and though he wore gloves she thought she could feel scars and callouses about his fingers. "But, certainly you didn't come here, looking for me, to talk sleeping arrangements?"

He turned, looking forward, his hair ghosted over her hands. To that silken touch she chuckled, taking comfort by the familiarity that would later scare her on hindsight.

"No, but what makes you think I was looking for you?"

He stopped then, startled. Then laughed, the sound touched with something light, humored, that might have been genuine delight. "Touché, your highness, touché."


	19. Tapping the Walls part 3

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 19

Tapping the walls, part 3

He opened the door, never mind it was fake, part of a set it rested in a backdrop out of a fairy tale. Never mind the outré setting, the fake door worked like any other door. A twist of the knob, one pull and a mute "after you" was offered. Suddenly she was leading, as to where, there was a room within this room. Its walls were painted canvas that spilled form their braces from the ceiling. Spilling down wooden poles that criss-crossed the ceiling, they boxed those who entered by the door way in a room filled with contradiction. Walls were painted on canvas; one was in truth styled to look like a bedroom wall. A child's room, with stuffies pinned to the fabric like fluffy afterthoughts. Propped against that domestic scene and it's speckling of Cheagle toys was an impossibility, stalactites, cones of papier-mâché all highlighted in garish reds to make them look as if they burned. Impossible that, stone did not burn, and for realizing that impossibility Natalia was confronted with thoughts of blood, gore…

She shuddered, and a gloved hand settled on her shoulder, causing her to start.

"Mount Zhaleo." Asch explained quietly, tone stripped of inflection. "Or… supposedly what the bowls of that volcano look like…"

Heart slowing, she smiled, though he'd never see it, her back being to him and all.

"Your friend… Noir? She has quite an imagination…."

Idly she took a few steps, turned and considered the other walls. Another forest scene met her scrutiny; scarred wood half cylinders had been pasted to the fabric… a rather limited… simulation of trees. The princess reached out, traced the scarred wood, humored to see a would-be romantic had scratched a heart on one of the "trunks". No names had been etched into the symbol though, it had been left blank.

"You assume she made the sets." Asch bantered, striding into the room's center he leaned against the worn and battered table at its heart. And, though there were four chairs set about it, refrained from taking a seat. She didn't see him move, didn't watch, merely listened to the tread of his heavy boots, the rustle of his flowing tabard, and guessed the rest.

"I guess I did." Natalia murmured, absently tracing the scratch with a finger. She recalled the Colonel's admonition just then, and as she had when he uttered it she wondered at the man's meaning. Deciding it was just another "Colonel thing" Natalia let it slide.

"Assumptions, your majesty, aren't things of enough worth to cherish."

Looking up, faintly irritated with the man's patronizing tone, Natalia sniffed. Not running this time, she managed to pull off the delicate little sound and inflect it with all the subtleties she wanted. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the Bloody to be where she assumed he would be. Well, except that he was slouched a bit and she hadn't imagined him being as lazy as try sleeping standing up.

"That's bad for your back." She pointed out.

"I'll remember your warning when I'm old and decrepit with a bad spine, and curse ignoring your words then." Asch drawled, cracking open one eye to half glower at her. "Now however, I could care less."

Pretty face twisting into a scowl, Natalia leaned against trees that were only half real, and glowered. "You're more sarcastic than Colonel Curtiss."

The other eye slid open, both locked on her, and the scowl that slid over his features silently warned her not to continue that train of thought. Nipping her lip, Natalia looked away, broke the glare off with an irritated "hurumph". Hands on hips, profoundly annoyed, Natalia seethed at nothing in particular.

You didn't meet a mad man's gaze after all, he might snap, bite, and his craziness could be contagious.

"Are all God Generals so surely or are you just special?" She couldn't help but quip.

He laughed then, bark bitter, utterly true. "I'd say I'm "special" but that would be the most grotesque understatement in the history of Auldrant."

"Because you look, exactly like someone else?" Natalia countered.

He snorted, good humor lingering though bitterness seemed predominant now. Slowly, surely, it would override any mirth, give birth to an awful show of temper. The subtle shaking in his green eyes, the faint flush to his cheeks, warned her of that. That, and that haunting familiarity, that subtle connection that melded past and present until it was hard to tell one from the other.

"Let's say... my appearance is but part of my charm. It's what Noir would say and she's our host _, honor thy host whilst a guest_ , or so goes the Noble protocol in Kimlasca."

"And other places too, I'd assume." Natalia countered.

Green eyes flicked on her, amusement on the decline, he studied her unblinking for a long moment. Then, summoning the past's ghost, uttered an unrepentant. "We aren't in Batical, Princess."

"I _know_ that."

"Then act accordingly." Pushing away from the table he stood, straight and stiff, enough so that her sense of propriety wasn't bothered though it was a hair shy of… militant. A quirk of his lips, all unhumored, he drew his last ghost. Waving the pasty specter of "last time" before them like a battle banner, he slid into the old with startling quickness. Even as his face fell into line, settling into familiar, hostile lines, she fought back the urge to grit her teeth at the sight.

Despite their familiarity, the echoes, she scarcely knew the man, but knew him well enough to hate it when he looked at her, like _that_.

"What are you doing here?" The Bloody barked. "Why the hell did you seek me out, and drag Largo to my door step?"

"I wasn't seeking you out." She snapped, meeting his anger with a healthy dose of exasperation. "And I assure you I'd have brought Largo to no one. He ran into me, saw me while I was… out."

Green eyes glimmered, met her own, waited for contradiction, confession, Lorelei knew what. She met his gaze, teeth gritted, defiant. Their stare off lingered until at last his tension bled off, he sighed, defeated by her stubbornness or so it seemed.

Finally, sullen, he grumbled. "Are you _ever_ going to answer me?"

Setting her hands on her hips, Natalia nearly laughed, settled for smirking instead. "Maybe, maybe not."

And to that bit of wit the Bloody laughed.

 


	20. Tapping the Walls part 4

 

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 20

Tapping the walls part 4

His mirth was short lived, quick and a touch guilty, as if he were breaking a vow and partaking a sinful indulgence. Still, she'd seen it, and for seeing it, knew that the man called "God General" and "the Bloody" was indeed human. There… was a comfort in that. This whole sordid adventure was just too surreal, what with princess, and princes, and clergy persons running amok. Would be saints, the generals of God, had crossed blades with the common far too often, and… recalling Luke's story of the capture of the Malkuthite's land ship… too much blood had been spilled because of it. People had places, places in their homelands, but those places had been lost in this mass migration of personages. It was as if conflict had been forgotten and the stately boundaries of Auldrant had become nothing.

"You exasperate me." The Bloody noted, slipping about her, his red hair trailing behind him like a banner.

"I could… say the same of you."

"You wouldn't be the first." Destination reached, the Bloody closed the door Natalia had left open. "And you won't be the last."

"Because it's Scored?"

And… to that bit of mundane lore, for the Score was the driving force of all, it was a known fact throughout Daath and all of Auldrant, the Bloody snorted. A man who'd gained rank and livelihood serving Daath and all the holy men within didn't give a damn. He'd said as much, cursed the Score's sacred name.

And, on second glance, her statement wasn't a statement after all. Inflection, damning inflection, that demon of questioning had come back to the fore. To that the Bloody smiled. Back to her he looking forward, she looked back, unless you swapped perspectives. Regardless of whose eyes you spied through though, neither could see. So Asch was left with assumption. Hardly precious, but… precarious for the amusement it summoned.

Such was her charm, he supposed, and Scored or no he liked it. Exasperation yes, she was exasperating as hell, but amusing, sincere, caring. Letting loose the door knob he turned, and nipped his lip to hold back a chuckle.

Perhaps it was the set of her shoulders, the stiffening of her spine that gave her thought away to his gaze. Perhaps it was something more, intuition. Regardless, he didn't need to see her lips to know they were pressed in a disgusted line, or step by her side to spy that her nose was crinkled just so. He considered her, then swept his gaze about the room. Dark and props summoned ghosts of Pans, of flight recalled but not truly lived. Distasteful, that, so he hummed a low note, sliding up the scale. Striving then striking the proper inflection, and at his call a familiar golden light seeped from his fingers, pushing back the dark.

For his efforts he was rewarded, not with a "thank you" as he might have hoped, but in other ways. Her shoulders lost some of their stiff, she relaxed just so. Idiotic really, how nobles were forbidden to give thanks and partake in all the other "common" expressions of emotion. Such "was not done" however, and he… recalled… enough to remember how much he hated it. And how he'd smothered, strangled, on his experiences but discovered that he'd been systematically stripped of the language to express that experience.

All in all it had been a pathetic state of living, if living was the right word.

XXX

It seemed as if damage was the new vogue, and disorder the proper way of the common. Eyes locked on the table, Natalia saw by the offered light it's many flaws. Scratches and scars told of rough handling. The varied sitting apparatus' ringed round alluded not to a uniform taste, but conflicting personalities.

"Problem?" The Bloody murmured, right behind her. It took all her will power not to hop.

"No." Distaste tainted her tone, like sarcasm but more finely honed. "Nothing serious."

Eyes glazed in precious hues, the Bloody studied his company, weighing tone against upbringing. Conclusion reached he reached out, instead of pushing her forward as he had before he drew her close. Pulled her closer. Gold teased the edges of his touch, added something ineffable to his grip. It was something of sunlight, soft as spring's sun against the roiling hills of Belkend, subtle as rain's coming at Batical's harbor, and delicately sweet. Like called to like, seventh fonon to fonist, call it... a path of least resistance with an arcane slant attached. She relaxed by degrees, spine losing all its steel, eyes sliding shut, a caress soft sigh. That startled him, she felt him shudder at the sound.

Still, shudder or no his hand left her shoulder, gloved fingers traced the arch of her neck. To that caress she turned, a sedate half twirl, no longer facing away. His eyes were all golden then, the previous green just a memory. Her breathe caught, froze in her lungs, and she shuddered, wanted to push away…

XXX

She was beautiful, glorious, svelt, vulnerable, his hand cradled her head, then slipped higher, gifted her an angel's halo all accidental. Smiling, so soft and tender all the fight left her, he traced the cassic's caress from the day before. And… despite the outré color of his eyes, she knew that his smile had caught and warmed those alien eyes. Stripped of moniker, the Bloody was just a man, and a surprisingly gentle one at that. But it lasted only for a moment. A subtle twist of his thoughts and resonance's tone and tenor and the frequency shifted. Seventh became sixth, the gold fled his eyes, there and gone between one pain born blink and another. Gold to snow glare white, face twisting with disappointment and pain Natalia opened her eyes and winced for doing so.

Under purest light's hottest illumination, Natalia tried to shy away. And… call its motives what you will, but the Bloody dimmed the light with contact, he muffled the illumination at its source. Clenching one fist he set the other to envelop her chin.

Such a gesture was reserved for the youngest of children.

"What are you doing here, Natal?"

Then, so mundane it sounded insane, she countered his repetition with her own.

"What, though I'm a princess I can't go shopping"

And then, now, so close, he believed her. Incredulous he snarled, grip tightening.

"Without guards, on Malkuth soil, you decide out of the blue to go shopping. Never mind there are God Generals with grudges less than a day behind!" The Bloody snarled. "Are the whole lot of you stupid or something? Or has the fact that there's a war brewing flown over all of your heads?"

Flinching back form the glare and tone, Natalia tried to appear composed. The light forbade that though, burned her eyes until tears blurred her vision. Faced against such justified scorn, confronted with commonsense born criticisms she saw her failures, to Score, to upbringing. She should have strived to find the path… but she'd forgotten what she was supposed to seek. She'd lost it somewhere on the way chasing whims and stupidity in equal measure.

Thus her calling to tranquility was forgotten. And while she realized it, he braced himself to hold off the rage a back slide on her part would have called forth… Sixth fonon would have become fifth, to the destruction of them both and probably the contents of the oversized shed as well.

But she'd forgotten the road, and for forgetting she didn't dither. She didn't call on Score of Lorelei to guild her. She made her own way.

There were, he'd realize on fore thought, some benefits to taking the incentive route in life, even when everyone told you it was foolishness.

"I'm not a-" Natalia snapped, trying to pull away, It was a futile effort, his grip had shifted, fingers digging into her jaw, arresting all speech.

"I'm not calling you a fool." The Bloody loosed his hold so bruises weren't a certainty and breathing wasn't a trial. "And I'll kill any man who'd dare mock you so."

His grip changed from restraining to delicate. She could surely step back and be free, but the familiar green of his eyes held her in place. Mesmerized, she savored the odd closeness, seeking glints of gold amongst the green. In her mind, divorced from her actions, was summoning warnings, echoing a comment on heart's singularity. And, coiling like discordant thunder was a truth and recognition, roiling closer and closer. Though vital, the information was melded into a meaningless melody that she had no inclination to sort out just then.

"You went shopping, alone, in enemy territory." Tone divested of bite, stripped of inquiry, he noted. Noted and caressed as his thumb swept up a path from just below the corner of her eye and down to the edge of her jaw. "Why?"

"Be… because…" His hand stilled, as if he was aware how the motions distracted her. Still she suffered confusion, for though ignored the shakings of epiphany were drawing closer. She shivered at its coming. Like a child hearing tales of monsters she closed her eyes, suddenly scared, shamed. "No one wanted to go with me. And I couldn't… didn't… dare press be… because I'm not supposed to be here."

Her lips clamped shut; she hadn't meant to say _that._ Not to _him_. An Oracle knight.

Incredulous, he stared at her, green eyes wide, no ghost of gold to his gaze at all.

Then, after an idle stroke, he let her go. "So," he murmured. "You're of the sacrilegious track, too? And here I thought I was the only one defying the Score." Then he indulged in a chuckle, bitter, always that, all his mirth seemed so. "Well one of the few." He corrected himself absently.


	21. Tapping the Walls part 5

 

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 21

Tapping the walls, part 5

Staring raptly at the air beyond her he considered the fantastic with all due seriousness. In that tension filled moment, she wondered what he garnered from falsity, why he sought solidarity in illusion. Then, that moment passed, and Natalia lingered under his gaze, utterly unseen. Thus, hidden while exposed, Natalia broke with tradition. Forsaking lessons of control she gingerly traced the line of his earlier caress, prodded the span he'd gripped. No pain met her rudimentary examination, so, in short, though he'd been rough he'd left no marks.

"I was supposed to wait, for Luke to summon me to Akzeriuth." Letting her hands drop she wished for something, anything, to do.

She'd acted a fool, been all but called one, and wished heart and soul not to be seen as one. Forsaking whatever truth he'd been seeking in illusion the Bloody studied her. Familiar yet not, the distorted slant of their association jangled loudest in the silence.

"You went through the sewers alone."

She flinched at that statement, hearing it repeated by others in scolding, disdainful tones.

"Yes." Face flaming, she wished it was dark again, that perfect dark where details were lost and the edges blurred.

"Why?"

"Someone I… care for.."

A sharp gesture on his part cut her off, the glimmer of madness seen in dust drowned Zao caught in his eyes. Warning her, ordering her, to silence. "Did you know you were breaking the Score's decrees before you left?" Asch snapped, whole manner screaming how he didn't want to hear about who she cared for.

Jealousy's eyes were green after all; at least that's how it went in all the stories. Flush rising to a painful burn, Natalia couldn't speak. But considering she didn't really have to. Her nod said plenty.

"I… think." The Bloody murmured. "That we've something to talk about."

She started, eyes wide, short hair tickling her ear lobes. She stared at him, utterly flabbergasted, and to that he was ever impassive. One epiphany, one legend recalled, and somehow, someway, they'd come full circle. Each action born from this day had mirrored that from before. It wasn't routine, rather a forced route.

Such went the description of Hell. Repetition, prosperities denial, and an endless chain of echoes that sounded out one's sin of deviation again and again.

"It's started, hasn't it?" The Bloody noted content it seemed to press on without her consent. Though small, it served as a deviant, an evasion of what had happened before. Save, hadn't Jade pressed, forcing out a few vague statements before letting things go? It sounded like something Jade would do, but suddenly, though it seemed likely, she wasn't sure. Wood scraped against wood as Asch pulled out a chair, turned it just so, a mute invitation. Even as her heart raced for being jarred out of her frantic analysis he nodded, indicating his offer, ordering her to decide.

Looking up, she felt familiar distaste returning. It was a horribly garish chair, an unflattering shade of blue, she'd look an ice queen upon her throne dare she sit, and a shoddy one at that. The back was scarred by cat's claws (or so she hoped) and scrapes and scuffs showed it to be a victim of rough handling. Still, his offer hung between them, made in bad taste, seeped in the remnants of broken manners, and it rebuffed her…. Even as is gaze, the familiarity in what shouldn't have been drew her closer. She hung, suspended, and he studied her, and in turn was studied by her. Just one change of clothes, exchange the Daathic cut of his clothes for Kimlascan, and she could not have told them apart. But he _wasn't_ Luke, _this wasn't right_ …

Suddenly she wanted run, and in turn was appalled by her cowardice. Thus, held in thrall by conflict, she found conflict's heart waiting. Anger took her, tossed the tattered remnants of reserve and dignity out the window.

"What right do you have to assume anything, much less about my piety, _Asch the Bloody_?"

Arm draped over the head of the chair, Asch traced scars and flaws with a black gloved digit. If nothing else his indifference spurred her on. Clenching her hands into fists she felt and fought the urge to hit him.

No matter how good it would have felt.

"Nothing." The Bloody looked up, and though cast in familiar shape and hue there was nothing of Luke in the Bloody's gaze just then. "I'd never challenge your _piety_ …" He sneered. "Your sense, perhaps, but never something as precious as your oh-so-valued _piety_." He took a deep breath then, restrained himself with obvious effort. "Your religious obligations aren't my business… but your deliberate defiance of the Score _is._ "

She stood, hands fisted, wanting nothing more than to leave, and seeing that he nodded, more than understanding the rage that had taken her heart.

"But tell me, before you storm off, cursing my name, tell me one thing. Is the person you fought with yesterday, whatever you fought with them for, is it worth reliving that fight with me, now?"


	22. Tapping the Walls part 6

 

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 22

Tapping the Walls part 6

"What in Yulia's sacred name are you talking-"

"She wasn't holy, just a woman, a victim."

At his audacity she stopped, robbed of all speech. How dare he cut her off, she was royalty and- Then his meaning hit, absurdity, profane, with that one statement he'd casually strolled out of the land of "sacrilegious" and into the realms of "insane". Save, he didn't look mad. Not with his eyes half closed, head down, chin set on the arm carelessly tossed over the back of the chair. He sighed, sounding tired, and suddenly she remembered their opening exchange.

"When's the last time you slept?" Natalia dared to ask.

"Not counting my nap when I barrowed the Dreck?" The Bloody quipped, boorishness at the fore. "A day and a half ago."

"And the… people… you travel with…"

"They don't notice or care." Asch affirmed, then Auldrant's best known murderer bared his teeth in a bitter smile. "And to spare you another repetition, _charming_ is not my descriptor of choice for my… associates."

She'd have sniffed, it was a proper response, demure yet disdainful. And, while it was a temptation to submit to habit she resisted. Curiosity nipped at her mind, birthed a question that while utterly improper wanted out. She nearly choked on the impulse, nearly fought it off. One cough, internal struggle later, and though she stuttered, she submitted to curiosity's call.

"Th.. That woman," Green eyes lifted from their study on the floor, flicked onto her. "Noir, was, is she an associate of yours?"

He laughed them grin still present, anger dimming, nearly forgotten. "No, she's an old friend."

"She's hardly _old,_ Asch."

"She's a year older than my own mother." The Bloody countered, still smiling. "She's old enough."

Neatly sidestepping the temptation of banter, the princess considered her murderer before her. The man, who looked, yet was not, her Luke.

"You said something about repetition." Natalia dared to break the cycle, tried to steer the subject to more relevant waters. And, some of the good humor left Asch's face, some of his –she hated to think this, but somehow knew it to be true- happiness fled. To her call for order the Bloody nodded, patted the chair he lingered besides. An invitation. Before her lay a path of broken manners, unseemly candor, she'd seen it all before.

Save this time she smiled.

"It's been a day."

To her oh-so proper manner Asch chuckled.

"I can _only_ imagine."

He met her manners for sarcasm, tit for tat, always an even exchange. She took his invitation, settled in the pseudo throne and grimaced. Thoughts of tarnished ice queens drifted in her mind. Still, she felt better for sitting, though when Asch refrained from doing likewise felt a flash of irritation. How _familiar_ he'd become, looking down at her like that, even as she patiently looked up to him, waiting for him to carry on.

It was only his hesitance… and never mind the familiar face, the unfamiliar turn of expression, she knew hesitance when she saw it… that held her protest in.

"So many people…" He sighed, bitterness present in the soft sound. "Alright, _everyone_ except a handful of scattered lunatics, think the Score as a road. It leads you along life's journey, guiding you inevitable till you take your place in history that will lead the select few to prosperity. The holy, the sacred, the devout, will experience a shadow of that glory in their lives for obedience. Ever are we rewarded, promises and slivers, least we stumble to the sin of sloth."

"Tranquility under the drive of the Score, such is the good of all Auldrant to live."

A nod, a rustle from above as a few threads of his hair slithered over the edge of the chair. She lifted a hand then, twined one lock between her fingers. For a long moment he studied her, placid expression a mystery. Still, he didn't protest. Didn't pull away.

"A life without choice isn't a road. A road's open ended. It can be taken and abandoned, and there are wilds, and monsters… always monsters. The Score is not a road, rather a room, a prison, in which all is pre-arranged. It's very pretty, very neat… tidy… but then arrangements tend to be that way, especially those with all the exits sealed off. We are told it's a road, but it's a room, windowless for those before us have bricked them off with tradition and custom, we're told not to touch, merely to endure, exchange acceptance for wonder, and all will be well."

She'd run out of finger to bind, so she let the lock slither between her fingers, he stopped then, summoned a lukewarm glower.

"Are you even _listening_ to me?"

"Yes," Fingers busy, she captured the lock, began to twine the crimson strand once more. "It's like that horror story. Where that man gets bricked into a room. He's tapping the walls... always tapping, looking for a way out because he's read so much, knows so much, and in every story there's a way out. You just tap the walls, find the catch, and you're free."

"But there's no catch." Asch finished quietly. "None that he ever finds, anyway."

"You're saying you found a catch."

A chuckle then, he shook his head in denial. "You don't find the catch until the very end, your majesty."

"Natalia." She rebuked.

"Whatever."

She was far from surprised, his flippancy was expected, and for that she shuddered.


	23. Ten Years

 

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 23

Ten years

"Every horror man has ever inflicted on himself, each and every war, natural catastrophe, tragedy, is foretold. You would think, with that knowledge available to the people of Auldrant, that someone, somewhere, would have had the guts to say "Why don't we use the Score to stop this war? Why don't we look ahead into the future and learn the antidote to the illness that plagues us now?"."

"In all Auldrant's history-" Natalia began

"Propaganda," The Bloody barked. "It's all score-damned, Locrian promoting, propaganda!"

Her mouth opened, closed, and all unthinking born of route learning, came an answer. She tossed it out in desperation, baring it against the horrible, horrid, truth he exposed.

"We were promised prosperity…"

With an awful low snarl that might have been words had rage allowed for language, Asch shifted his grip on her hair, and with an almighty shove turned it about. The pseudo throne's back slammed against the tables edge with enough force she felt the blow in her spine. Teeth clenched, braced against the jarring hallow scree of wood scraping against wood; they clicked at the force of impact. Familiar fists clenched, closed over the sides of her chair. He leaned close, loomed. And, most terrifying of all was his face. So familiar but not, twisted in horrible patterns, lips pealed back, he was twice the beast as the Lion in that moment.

At least.

Your prosperity-" He snapped off the word, should have been saying "plague" for all his vehemence. "-is _that_ precious? So precious,-" He hissed the word, smeared its edges, nearly spitting them. "-you'd sacrifice your every thought, your very life, to see it fulfilled?"

"It's not for me." She whimpered, tears burning behind her eyes. "It's for my people."

"Alright," he grated, taking a deep breath, he let it out, slowly, fighting his colossal rage. "You want your vulking prosperity, _fine_ , how many will you kill for it?"

She stared at him, stunned, unable to even _think_ much less _speak._

"One thousand?" The Bloody bored in. "Or is that too much for your delicate conscience?"

The sick expression on her face must have said yes, it was far too much, for he treated her as if she had protested.

"Fine. Five hundred? I'll make it easy, you can use that quaint bow and arrow of your so the blood won't touch you. You can look five hundred people in the eyes as you shoot them, tell them it's for prosperity, I'm sure they'll understand."

She quaked, as if victim to those arrows herself. Tears spilled free at long last. They traced wet paths down her spazoming face, and for her composure was a distant memory, a forgotten dream. Dignity forsaken, she cried, struggled to rise, fought to flee.

He was mad, worse than mad; she wanted him gone, to be away from this human devil. For surely a demon lurked under the man's skin, all the more horrible for being so cursed familiar. He snarled at her struggles, fought to hold her down, snapped his hands down and pinned her wrists to the arms of the would be throne. Recalling too late, she lashed out with her feet, sought to kick him, shove him back, but he was too close, she couldn't get enough leverage to do nothing more than thrash and squirm.

"Natal! Damn it, be still!"

"You're not Luke! You've no right to call me that!"

"I'm not Luke," He hissed. "And I'll damn well call you what I like." His grip tightened his lips pressed into a thin slit. "If you don't stop fighting I'll make you stop."

She whimpered from the budding pain in her hands and to that soft sound some of his anger left. He loosed his grip even as she broke. Whimpering and shaking, terror and horror and revelation broke her at long last. She sobbed, curled against his warmth even as she hated herself for doing so.

"Shh…" Sliding one hand free he stroked her hair, as if it was his right to do so. This went well beyond familiarity, beyond it and brushed against the barriers of something else. Something unwholesome, consuming, for she could see it had devoured him, whatever it was, by the hollowness in his green eyes. "We're almost done. The worst, than nothing more." He kissed her forehead, and she flinched from the casual caress. He didn't seem to mind, was smiling now, indulgent. "Now, be still."

As before he traced the side of her face, sliding one digit from the corner of her eye down to the edge of her lips, brushing away her tears all the while.

Eventually her shaking stopped, she cringed back and he allowed her the luxury of personal space. Well, save the one arm he kept pinned, but that went without saying. When she seemed steadier, for he studied her, his green eyes glinting all the while, the Bloody sighed. Asch let his hand slip away, regret swept the anger from his face until only the jangle along her nerves remained to make her recall… And even that was fading, slow and sure, even that was fading.

He knelt, his manner reminiscent of a supplicant to the throne. Clasping her hands, letting her loose at long last, he looked up at her, tattered remnants of his heart in his eyes. His cassock rustling, pooling about his knees, that scarf like black fabric declared his would-be divinity. This was a man who'd given all to serve Lorelei. A man who hated Lorelei, body and soul.

"For all the pains, the atrocities, the sacrifice, we condone. As a people, as a nation, as a world, we are given ten years. Ten years of glorious prosperity. And half of Auldrant's population dies, one nation is whipped clean by plague in God's disguise, and we are given ten years, we of Kimlasca are given ten glorious years. Then the eleventh year… and thus it begins."

Shaken, shaking, she looked at him, horror and fear had worn her out, made her mind torn and scattered her wits. All by raw emotion, _his_ emotion, and that which he chose to invoke in her.

"What begins?"

"The end of the world."


	24. Enfolded by silence part 1

 

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 24

Enfolded by Silence part 1

"You're lying!"

Incredulous was an outburst born of shock, it had little meaning, so he waited, hands still clasped over own. When the charged silence seemed likely to go on forever, he licked his lips, dared to speak.

"Have I lied to you, ever?"

One promise hung between them that everything would be alright. A childish thing, utterly sincere, and... Insane as it would seem, as far as she knew he'd upheld it. If he hadn't then why were the God Generals a day behind them instead of at their very heels? It was her groups fault if a meeting came up again; after all they'd lingered to tend their hurts and exhaustion.

"We only just met…" Natalia dithered.

"And lies are certainty, always? Lies are life's guarantee, than, whenever two people meet? I always thought the old saw went that partings were inevitable."

"Noir…" Guilt tightened about her heart, fisted. She recalled a woman in red, a hasty flight, a dark alley.

"She's fine, she'd have screamed for help long before this if she wasn't." A rueful chuckle, his fingers twined about hers. "Largo may be damned powerful but no force on Auldrant's enough to shut Noir up."

"You sound like you tried it before."

"And failed." The Bloody conceded, tightening his grip, squeezing her cold, clammy digits. An absent reassurance. "I don't fail often, but in that, I did. She… teases me about it sometimes."

He had friends, this mad man had friends, and such little concerns, and still he defied Score and courted damnation for doing so. Not just for himself, but for all about him. Curling her hands away from his touch, the images of his earlier rage flashed through her mind, still she held her courage. Held fast, for it's all she had left.

A whisper. "I… I don't feel comfortable with you… touching me…"

Pain touched his face, an open expression, his heart still was in his eyes… save she couldn't see it, she couldn't weave through the ruins of his manner.

Without a word, he let her go; her hands twisted, suddenly cold, dreadfully empty. Idly she wished for something constructive to do even as she rubbed her hands together, wishing she were warm.

Cold then, so very cold, eyes adverted, he spoke in arctic tones.

"What if I said: "Don't go to Akzeriuth, you will only find ruin and despair, loss and agony" would you go?"

"I'm needed."

He considered that, green eyes canted to one side, as he thought. Then, with a soft sigh he lifted his gaze, held her trapped with the mere meeting of their eyes.

"Akzeriuth is the catalyst. Both yours and Luke's death lay there. And it leads to the beginning of the end." He warned. To her curious look, not fear filled but intrigued, he smiled a small bitter tinged grin. "Some things don't change, I see…" A chuckle, he shook his head slow, sure. "I wish I could but for now, I can't tell you how, or why, not while you're associated with _him_."

"Him who?"

He held his silence, and to that she found her resolve.

"If my death is Scored and it is Lorelei's will that I go there only to due, then I'll go, help the people, and rewrite Lorelei's ending."

"With the past, dogging your every step." Asch countered. "Damnation, as those of Daath call it, is baying at you. The past will haunt you. Lorelie's thwarted will is judgment's harshest form. He'll do anything to force you to submit to the "proper path". You've only touched the edges of those echoes; they will get harsher, louder, as you draw closer to the source."

His hands twitched, even as he considered her own.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, was it?" Natalia dared, he shook his head and the motion atop inspired her. Perhaps this was part of Lorelei's "judgment", this sudden, vivid, recollection, perhaps not. Whatever it was, it wasn't so bad. She reached out even as she conceded with a smile that his long hair was a draw. She'd always liked long hair, loved to play with it, but was so inept with tending her own she kept hers short. So, to this habit, she folded. So much like her Luke's, his crimson locks, save Luke after the kidnapping never would ever had permitted her to touch one lock on his head.

Asch, after a quick start of surprise, allowed her her play.

"It's hardly fair," The Bloody whined. "I'm not allowed to even chastely touch your hands while you get to have a field day with…"

With a giggle she snatched a fist full, he yelped, started to rise, but the pull was quick and light. One tossed a handful, at the roots to minimize the tug, and he had a sizable chunk of crimson screening his face.

"Natal!" He snarled, looking like a talking red mop just about then. To say his glower's effect was dampened went beyond redundant.

Pawing at his face he managed to slick what he could down. Still, he'd started to rise, and thus startled he hadn't bothered to finish. His half stooped over posture, much like an old man in need of a cane, made his efforts harder.

Well, actually, Natalia corrected herself, they were rather futile. He was losing… or rather _loosening_ … half of what set in place. And gravity was against him, very much against him.

She tried to keep it in, her laughter, be a few giggles slipped out. Then she was howling even as he cursed her, Lorelei, the Score, and someone named Urushi for having gotten him a batch of weak hair gel.

Well, he didn't say "weak" but she didn't like to swear, so she edited his dialogue just a bit here and there.

Eventually she sobered, eventually he got his hair in place, ghosts laughter hung about them, utterly inappropriate yet it fit all the same.

"None of this was supposed to happen, wasn't it?" She teased, speaking of frivolous things, alluding to somber ones. Still she smiled; face hurting for how wide it was.

And, though surely he meant it to be serious too, he smiled at her. A tentative grin, so soft it surely must be true. "No. It wasn't."

Then, breaking the easy silence, he first knelt, then sat, at her feet. Twisting about so he wasn't facing her, he considered falsity again, considering fanciful scenes with all due seriousness. In that he wronged her twice over. First by ignoring the fact that his rank was below hers and he must kneel, second by turning from her to consider some lesser thing. He no longer even tried to act proper, to give her honor as one of her rank must be given honor, or so said the Score. But, all things considered, she could scarcely blame him. They'd left property long ago.

As if knowing her thoughts… "I know I'm not being proper, but I haven't had all my wounds tended since the scuffle under Zao. My knees are a little raw from all the scrambling about in the dark."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, don't apologize." He slashed a black gloved hand through the air, cutting her off.

"Do you trust me?" To her answering silence, her assumed start of shock he compile upon his thought, making it utterly unpalatable. "Enough not to question me? To take what I say as inviolate truth, and follow it no matter where it leads you?"

"No." She opened her mouth, to soften the denial, but his rueful laughter brought her up short.

Still chuckling, he protested. "But, I've held up all my promises to you, respected your wishes."

Her hands clenched, recalling one wish, the one he'd honored. She lost something for his honoring it, and though she hated to admit it she knew she wanted it back.

"I understand what you're trying to say…" Natalia felt her nails nip into her palms, never mind her gloves, she felt the bite. "You don't need to repeat yourself."

"Just making sure."

Walls stirred, solidarity's illusion broke as somewhere beyond them one door opened. A click, mutter of voices –falling away, distant enough to not be worrisome- and another click told her the ingress had been quick and had ended quicker.

"What's this place?"

He countered her with an arched eyebrow and a wicked smirk, twisting about so she could see both. "A storage shed."

It was an incomplete answer, she hated incomplete answers, and the smugness to his smirk told him he knew that. How, she wasn't sure, and didn't honestly care just then.

"How are your shins?" Natalia bantered, shifting one foot just so.

"Fine." His eyes flicked to the foot, read the threat, and he lost his smile as he looked away. "Just a little sore." He corrected himself with a grimace.

"Good."

"You're a seventh fonist, aren't you?"

"Yes," Natalia noted mildly. "It's kind of you to notice."

He didn't finish his request, didn't even allude to it, but there was something sullen about the set of his expression. He'd been shot down, and knew it. He rubbed a leg, glanced up at her bright, smiling, face and let the hand drop.

Silence fell, time crept in and all of time's considerations. She'd been gone a while, not too long to be worrisome, still, it was wrong to be gone so long. Improper. She considered leaving, considering getting up and going. They'd said all that they'd needed to say, and while he answered some of her questions, and gifted her so many more, by his own admission he wasn't going to answer anything more.

Hands gripping the throne, she shifted, made to rise.

All he'd have to do was stand, one shove and he could force her back. If he felt matters weren't done and he was feeling surly enough, he could do more than force her to stay. That fear jangled about her nerves, set her heart to racing still she stood, and he sat, not even looking at her though he must be aware she was going.

One step, around him, she took care not to mash tabard or scarf like cassic, both which pooled about him at his back like black blood.

"You're going then?"

She stopped, nodded, he didn't look up. She never looked back, never meant to anyway. She'd leave in silence, Largo must be gone now but it was best not to take chances. She'd ask Noir to check the way, make sure Noir was well, and then she'd be gone.

"Just give me a moment more."

Heaven only knew who he asked, with that tone so shaken, shaking. She almost turned, caught herself at the last moment. She was leaving, all his pleas to the contrary, she had places to go, people to save, a Score to rewrite.

"Please."

She turned then, shocked at the vulnerable tortured slant to his voice.

"What?"

"I... there's a story I need to tell you, something to show you. I can't start at the beginning, I've too much to lose if I start there… but if you can trust me, for just a moment…" He took a breath; the sound shuddered so awful it was jagged. "I'll show you the ending."

He lifted one hand; familiar golden light twined about his fingers, pushed back the dark and stained all about him the throne, the common wooden floor, her profile, in precious hues.

"You're a seventh fonist?" Natalia whispered, turning fully now, face framed in that precarious light he summoned.

"No."

No inflection, he wouldn't even look at her, set his chin on his knees and stared at nothing at all. Dazed by the very light he'd summoned it seemed. For though he should speak, elaborate, he said nothing at all.

"A Scorer?" Natalia pressed, feeling a fool.

"No."

So still, he didn't shake his head, scarcely seemed to breathe. She waited then, waited and worried. There was gold in his eyes, creeping slowly, eating up the green. Then, unsatisfied with the green it seeped out, enfolding the white, slowly filling his gaze.

Those alien, amorphous eyes turned to her. Mostly gold, green and white swimming, sinking, under the crushing weight of impossibility.

"What _are_ you?

He answered her, a child's answer, route learned, tradition enforced.

"They called me, the light of the sacred flame."

He didn't move, considered the illumination about his fingers with eyes that were slowly being forced to match. All unconcerned, he spoke, his very voice altered under the drive of the force that held him and shed such a precious light. There was a touch of an echo to his words, as if he were someplace else, yet here, all at once.

Thus, he addressed her a final time.

"If you trust me, take my hand. If you don't, you know where the door is."

Heart hammering against her breast, she approached him. Making satire of propriety _she_ knelt before _him_. Her skirt rustling about her knees, shoes clicking against the wood, she looked into him, by that precious, golden, light. She considered, his promises made, and those he kept. Pitting allusion to action, she knew that all he held precious was about her. His friends, their things, perhaps their livelihood… If she was right, then roundabout, she held the surety that was the foundation of their lives in her hands. For surely this shed belonged to Noir, and Noir was more than an "associate".

She considered it all, considered his trust in her.

Decision reached, she in turn reached for him, enfolding her hand over his.

And the light, his light, swept into her, taking with it all the world. First the edges, than the colors, trading all for the brilliant golden illumination.

She made to cry out, wanted to wrench away. But someone, somewhere, had stolen her voice as they'd stolen her sight.

But she couldn't move, there was nothing to move against, no point in this monochrome madness save one reference. One bridge between here and there. Pressure, his hand closed over hers. Emotion; reassurance seeped from his touch, steadied her fear, forbade panic. Though filled with light, there was silence, a muffling silence as sure as smothering. She could no longer hear the beat of her own heart, still there was his hand, his touch. She held onto his hand for dear life, for sanity.

And the golden light and all its glorious silence enfolded her.

Then, though silence and light possessed no knobs no latches, no mechanics, it opened before her very eyes.

Thus, she saw the world.


	25. Enfolded part 2

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 25

Enfolded part 2 (The vision: first motion, dissidence)

A/n: I haven't done surrealist since... well since "The road to irresponsibility". Hopefully I still know what I'm doing.

The world was... different.

Familiar, the same, yet ineffable… off.

The ground was the ground; the grass was green, perhaps greener than it'd ever been. In that, the world was much the same. The sky hung above, a glorious blue, arching above her… them…

She wasn't alone; her hand was twined with his... a glance from the corner of her eyes confirmed who held her hand. He wore white of course, blindingly so, gaudily so, so… adolescent, still she smiled and tightened her grip. Above, beyond touch and rebuke, the sky hung, bluer than any poet's benediction, surely bluebirds must be lost against its very flank. It was beautiful, a beautiful day, and she smiled up at it.

Taking a child's delight in the vibrancy, she traced the golden slashes all speckled with precious stones (pebbles amongst lines, all painted on high, they reminded her of something… of what she couldn't say) with her regard, and knew them to be the fon belt.

And, for all she watched, those precious stones would not come down to adorn her hand, to enrich her people, so with a sight she dropped her gaze. Considered the slopping hills that lead to her destination. The slope went down, driven deep by centuries of erosion and mining, it all lead to a span bereft of grass, into depths deprived of sky.

This was her destination, she'd been summoned, the summoner held her very hand.

And, despite how she had been summoned, -so like a servant- she smiled. This wasn't so bad, not really.

Still, a thought niggled at her, even as he took her hand and lead her down the slope. Call it, an idle curiosity. The fon belt… was it residue or cause of the planet storm, the very heartbeat of Auldrant's technology and therefore it's society? She lifted her gaze, at curiosities' call, though surely another glance would hardly divest its secrets to one curious girl.

Golden slashes, that filled the space about them with their own color, paler hues, yes, but gold all the same. That familiar (haunting) light stained the stones, set a small scattering of coins across the sky.

It recalled her of... something, what she couldn't say.

(His eyes, his eyes had been gold… washed under a tide of precious metal, his normalcy had drowned in bits and pieces under unspeakable tides…)

At their backs, a murmur. Voices, some familiar, some not. A click and scrape as blunted claws pawed on stone. Another sound, mystery resolved, harness shivered, its attendant bells sang.

Thus, she knew she'd arrived by coach.

She ached to turn, so childish a drive it might be better called peaking. After all, she must confirm this audacity (for she hated to travel by dragon, the smell of the brutes never failed to turn her stomach) but she was not permitted. No matter what she wished, what she thought, she could not deviate.

A touch of fear threaded up her spine, at that, and never mind that it was supposed to be, she felt it.

Perhaps this was anticipated, for Luke tightened his grip on her hand. And she was soothed.

But, though soothed that meant that she wasn't thinking. This was an absurdity, from first to last, and added to it was abnormality. She became increasingly aware of another thing that was slightly… off. Though Luke was at her side, and surely others were at their back, none of the servants paid her heed. No servant's scrambled to offer a hand, wish her well; they could have been a gathering of strangers at her back.

That bothered her, and perhaps it showed, because Luke smiled, still holding her hand (as he'd never smiled at her, not in the last seven years) and spared a glance back.

"Ramdas, get this lot back, set camp a mile or so away. I don't want anyone else getting sick form this Lorelei cursed Miasma!"

A humored chuckle, years older than it should have been. Now Natalia was allowed an indulgence, was allowed to turn. So she did, facing the faceless mob whose features flickered and smeared between each blink.

(Such was the set of things, so that she could only see the truth when her eyes were closed)

A line here, an angle there, a click of color where eyes should have been. Features filled, featureless, to spite all the details each face bore the trademark contradiction. She could not tell Ramdas from the press though she'd known him years. Was he the blocky one to the left a smidge ahead of everyone else? Or was that someone else? Like features, their edges shifted swelled, digressed, regressed all at whim, so slow you could watch. As for identifying someone per their clothing, identifying marks, insignias, swam about, their lines chasing colors only to reform in bizarre meaningless, patterns.

And, all this chaos was held within the semi stable frame of each person. Though, the lines were constantly being rewritten. But never mind feature and form and forsaken stability, these were her servants, and yet these were not. There was none of the… the caring that marked her relationship between her servants and herself. This was an apathetic mob at her back.

Even as she realized this, the man who might be, yet might not be, Ramdas, bowed.

"As my Lord, commands."

To that Luke laughed a warm rueful sound that brought memories of… of the other (Asch) to the fore. She turned to look at him, truly consider her Luke's features. And it was like looking through snow glare, headache inspiring, eye burning… and purest white. But once she tried, she didn't let up. Her eyes teared, (though no one commented upon it, since it wasn't supposed to be it just wasn't, at least to those about her) and she held fast, to resolve, to courage.

It was all she had left.

All she'd ever had.

And like before, the light opened, parted without mechanics, and through the glare she sawblack clothes, a familiar face baring a fast becoming familiar expression. Asch, what was he doing here? And though she could see him, Luke was there, teasing and bantering, so unlike her Luke.

Simply put, he was as she'd dreamed Luke to be.

She opened her mouth, to question, to comment. And to that Asch leaned close, pulled her closer, white sheathed arms enfolded her, a chaste hug suitable for the masses to see. The glare was back, Asch was fading into the light.

His words, however, would not.

" _Because… you were never meant to be kind."_

She started, eyes wide, utterly shocked.

"Jeeze Natal, lighten up will you?" Luke whined, holding her closer. Familiar features, horridly blurred, she fought a shiver. "I know it's not proper an all but… well, I couldn't resist." A pause. "Are you alright?"

Her mouth opened, all her lines were pre written after all. "Fine... I'm fine."

 


	26. Enfolded part 3

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 26

Enfolded, (the vision) part 3

Save the World

A flash of gold, not from on high, but from a more earthly source, caught her gaze. He lingered, golden haired, blue eyes flashing, features marvelously stable. To that spot of normalcy she smiled, relief teasing her heart. Just looking at him drove the chill left by Asch's words. Here was one she knew, and by the small smile that graced his lips, who knew her.

In this things weren't all that different.

"Guy, aren't you going to leave with the others?"

Though she'd never spoken the words, never meant to, it seemed as if without or without her consent this dialogue was going to be played out. It was her voice, and something of her tone (a touch loftier perhaps) but the words were one's she'd never spoken.

One did not leash Guy in, or flippantly order him about, or question him, ever…

Because… well this Guy's eyes thinned a bit, his smile turned watery, and those eyes went flat.

In that, it confirmed what she already knew. Things weren't all that different between wherever this was and the real world beyond it.

"No, your majesty, I'm not going with the others."

Dropping her hand, Luke let out a soft growl, the malovant sound coiled in his throat, set the green of his eyes to flaring. And, considering their status, between noble and common, he should have left at Natalia's suggestion, the fact he hadn't…

(Such behavior would have earned him the lash in her father's court…)

It went beyond unseemly, into blasphemous disrespect.

(She shook for him, Luke sounded furious, but her frame stayed steady. Outwardly she was held by an embrace so tight it forbade her to move no matter what her heart wanted. Things she felt that went beyond the scope of this little play were permitted to be felt, but never acted upon.)

"I am Luke Fon Fabre, son of Furion Fon Fabre, heir to the throne of Kimlasca, and I'm giving you a direct order Guy Cecil. You are to return with the others."

Running a hand through his hair, Guy considered first Luke, than her. Scritch scratch went his hand as he ruffled his locks. Now messy they seemed dull, less like gold and more akin to bronze. Still, he bowed in submission, stood as one must after a bow. The stretch and yawn he tossed out though broke his motions of protocol, and he remained, little act done.

"I'm going with you, Luke." Guy bantered, though the tone was light there was steel in his gaze. "And you can throw all the royal fits you want, flaunt your whole line if you like, but I'm not leaving Natalia alone."

" _I'm_ going with her, you dunce." Luke snapped, hands clenching into (familiar) fists. "She's not going to _be_ alone."

To that Guy bowed, stood, than drew his sword. At her side, Luke tensed, and then relaxed as Guy simply spun it about with a flair that set its edge to flashing in the noon sun. Little show complete, the servant sheathed his sword, bowing once more.

"You'll need another blade down there Luke, someone competent in a fight to watch your back."

And though he sounded concerned, sincere... there was something (wrong) about his eyes. Old patterns (that look of friendship) had been lost, somewhere between here and there, and a new festering tension had taken its place. If snide condescension could have taken a bow it would have done so twice during Guy's little show.

"Colonel Curtiss is waiting for us in the town proper. The man butchers Kimlascan's for sport and I doubt that crown you haven't earned yet is going to impress him much." Guy pointed out, stepping closer, into Luke's sword range. Daring that, considering Luke's hands hadn't relaxed yet. Dropping his voice, the servant cast a glance at the dissipating mass at his back. "You _need_ me there, you know it."

Guy's blue eyes flicked form Luke to Natalia, even as Luke (One of Asch's pet gestures, so odd to see it on Luke) eyes canted to the side. Considering something beyond them all, he finally nodded. Decision reached.

"Come if you want." Luke grudgingly gave ground. "But remember, this isn't a lark."

"I'll take it with utmost seriousness, your highness." Guy drawled.

"Guy!" Natalia's mouth worked independent of her mind, its tone was divorced from the cries of her heart. Utterly uncontrollable her lips popped open even as she mentally reeled from the… the discordant slant of a relationship that had been so close and brotherly that she couldn't think through its disharmonies. "That's enough!"

Blue eyes flicked down, studied bare earth and matching dull boots. He flinched part from phobia, part from knowing she was completely in the right.

A snicker from her side made her turn, and to that the Natalia (who wasn't real, wasn't true to this reality) found a new target.

"And _you_ are not to bait Guy any further, is that clear? You know how he hates the lay about nobility, and your father isn't precisely clean of that particular flaw so _you_ can't gloat."

Now Guy wasn't the only one studying his boots. Head bowed, hair screening his face in a pall of crimson, Luke (Asch?) sighed. He acted so much like a school boy who was being scolded by teacher (school marm) that Natalia, both Natalia's, let their lips quirk into a grin.

The motion was simultaneous, as was the impulse that followed. Reaching out, she pushed that mass of red aside. First her hand slipped over his face, one thumb set a path from the corner of his eye to the edge of his jaw. To that he started (as had she, when... _he_ had done thus to her a world agone) looked up. Green eyes startling clear, perfectly formed, the stared at her unutterable shock.

And following boldness for boldness, she drew close, kissed the edge of his eye. He'd closed them, both eyes then, sighed at the caress. Powerful arms wrapped about her (a promise: everything will be alright. One he hadn't made but in a way he had. For it echoed in her heart, never mind it was the wrong man who'd made it, that he'd never make it in this world) one hand breaking the embrace to slide up her back.

She sighed at his touch. Such... familiarity lay in that simple caress. She'd wanted it, longed for it, and, yes. She'd feared it a little. His touch was missed though never experienced, unanticipated though patiently expected.

And utterly, unspeakably, wrong.

Guy seemed to feel that, for he cleared his throat, made as if he was going to break them up. Her mind was grateful, her heart beat so wild she couldn't guess its state.

Luke snarled, the sound made her shiver, she could feel it's every vibration shake her very bones.

As could he.

"Don't say a word." Soft, dangerous, hateful, Luke fon Fabre opened his eyes to glower at the man who should have been his friend. He possessed only enough control so that he could mute his hate enough so he wouldn't scream the words. "She's not yours, and you better damn well remember that."

Hand sliding up, reversing its track from where it had been ghosting down, he trailed up her back stroking every inch of vertebra until he reached her hair. Winding calloused fingers through her locks, he soothed, assured with a touch. She relaxed in stages, closed her eyes, letting thoughts recede in the background she basked in his tender caress.

Lips pressed against her ear, he breathed the words, familiar, belonging to a world that wasn't this one.

" _It'll be alright Natal, a moment's courage, a few horrors, the worst, than it's done_."

Her eyes flared open, she wanted to gap, but wasn't permitted. She couldn't pull away, challenge the light. Blinded by the glare she was unsure, had it been Luke, or Asch, who had spoken? Thus, unsure she nearly hopped out of her skin when his lips lingered against her earlobe. A laugh (Asch's, or _his_?) softer than the kiss, a flush, her own, and they pulled apart.

Grinning, a devilish grin, so charming and young, Luke dropped his hands, snatched up her own. Their fingers twined an echo of intimate caress.

"Come on," Moment gone, save in her heart, a heart she was losing, never mind its wild gyrations were confined under the bones of her breast, he tugged. She followed. Staggering a little in the uneven, sloping ground. "Let's go save the world already!"

 


	27. Enfolded part 4

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 28

Enfolded part 4:

The Vision: Breathe deep

They descended, three with a purpose of one. To save the people of Akzeriuth, to scour free the miasma, to save the world. Yet, though their purpose was singular, they were not. It wasn't like the tales and she'd said as much.

Or rather she'd been forced to say as much. Repeating a truth she'd already discovered under the stone skies of Zao. She rattled this fact off as if it were new, though it wasn't. In some ineffable way she was tied and gagged, she mouthed the lines of her script, all unread, timed perfectly, with a weary resignation by now. She'd already tried to speak outside her lines, and either was gifted by silence by her companions or could not talk at all. More often than not she was not permitted her comment, it was as if her lips were sealed shut…

Save when… something… wanted her to speak.

So, as the route grew steeper she was nattered by her own voice. She did, and did not, badger both men with small complaints the whole hike down the slope. All in all, a few moments in she wanted to slap a hand over her own mouth. She wasn't that petty, that pathetic, but the words kept tumbling out and they only stopped when her breathe grew short.

Suffice to say neither Luke nor Guy offered to give her a break at that point. They seemed to relish her sudden silence. And all in all, it was a wonder Luke put up with her insistent whining. Guy had the stiff pose of seething indignation that precluded an explosion; Luke just seemed content to let it roll off his back.

She just wanted it to end, well the whining could stop anytime it liked, but that other was still using her lips, nattering them all to death… She sounded like Luke, and it was a shocking thing considering that Luke was before her acting like he never had. He wasn't whining, merely quiet, intent.

And that reminded her of something, someone, and it took no effort to know whom.

Another mystery played in her mind. Asch, she really wondered about him. Who was he? Really, truly, what was he? At times, in this place, he was Luke, at times…

She was permitted to look up, to see though the glare, to find Asch staring at her.

"We're almost there." Luke smiled, assured, stilling another barrage of complaints no doubt.

Well there was some doubt, this might be her, but she was divorced from the thoughts of this "other" Natalia. A reprieve really, considering all the chatter she didn't even want to know the thoughts. She'd heard them loud and clear already.

" _Pay attention, this isn't so pleasant that you'll want live though it thrice."_

And, beyond her control she spoke, of little things to Luke. Within her control, she struggled, fought against the drive to say nothing. Already the light was returning. Asch was fading under the glare. Behind her lids, awaiting release, burning all the while, tears ached to spring from her eyes. But they were not permitted for it wasn't to be.

So she wasn't permitted, to cry, to speak.

Yet, despite being silenced, he seemed to hear what she wanted him to hear.

" _Three times."_ The Bloody announced, fading soundlessly. Even as Luke talked, and his light returned, Asch spoke under Luke's comforting, trivial chatter. _"As foretold, you seeing as it was foretold, and how you live it."_

_We only live once._

" _Only some of us."_ Faded, his edges were faded, smoky grey as white fought and overcame. _"The lucky ones. Some of us live twice."_ He tossed out a small grin at that announcement. It melded perfectly with Luke's smile. For Luke was saying something silly that caused Natalia… the other… as she should have been… to laugh.

Amongst the laughter and banter, Asch passed from merely fading, to gone.

" _Those few… such as myself… live three times. This is how it should have been, as it will be. So pay attention, if you want to rewrite things, this is the vital part."_

Ever called a curious Kit, she wondered: _What about the beginning?_

_Closed and gone, you can't go back, so what would be the point of trying?_

He didn't speak, her heart had then, using his voice. For there was nothing to address, the haze that had been him was gone. Only Luke remained. Luke and the light that seeped from his seams, steeling the edges from her vision, in that sixth and first fonon were not that different. Not that different and all.

"Natal?"

(A memory: You aren't Luke! You have no right to call me that!)

"Yes, dearest?"

(Luke would have died had she called him that, even with only just Guy in attendance)

Speaking of Guy, he shifted, lingering in Luke's shadow, eyes... darker… sullen. Twiddling his sword, Guy looked ahead blankly, like men in deep thought tend to do. Whatever was before him jarred him out of his ruminations with a wince. And that inspired her… vessel in this misadventure… to do the same. She looked, she saw, and she shook. Both she and the other both quaked.

Before them wreathed in venomous mists of violet, were jags in the earth. Craterlike indentions, small holes, abandoned mining pits perhaps, pocketed the path on either side. All lead down though, down into a reversed swell, a cancerous maw of the earth itself that dripped with miasma. Like mist, venoms coated the declines with purple droplets. The wind picked up, and the smell was... indescribable... Wet liger, certainly, mix that with the smell of fouled food without a touch of char to soften its edges, age generously and you touched the edges of that reek.

Beyond the edges, language failed.

Sight failed too, she couldn't pierce the mist, could sort of see buildings in the distance. A half hours careful walk, surely, lay ahead.

Regardless of thoughts of travel, her steps faltered, her eyes went wide.

Her thoughts did not stop, nor did her impulses. She wanted to run; to race into the maw all cloaked in venom and never mind the dangers. She wanted to start rushing people out. No one could live there long. How long had this been going on?

The wind slackened, the scent receded. Guy was wheezing at that barest contact, Luke cringed, face all wrinkled up. Irrelevant, petty, though surely she gulped the slightly fresher air with relief she shoved back all thoughts of her suffering and worried at those about her. This had been going on too long, the mists were impenetrable, the whole province of Akzeriuth (only a few miles, precious gem encrusted, but small all the same) must be tainted. The very earth would ever reject life for this awful immersion. And, what life it harbored would be tainted, ever after.

Forever after.

It was like a fairy tale, where all the endings were bitter, all the paths dark.

And, like a tale, all the lines had been prewritten.

"You don't have to go." Luke protested, bravo gone, emptied by the sight before them.

"I have to." Natalia argued. "It was foretold."

"Forget that!" Guy yelped. "A princess, you're a princess Natalia, you can't just go traipsing around down there with us, wait here and…"

"It was Scored." The other Natalia pointed out, voice shaking.

As did the real Natalia shake, with conflicting urges, urges to save, urges to flee, urges to breathe. But, since it wasn't foretold, she was not permitted to breathe deeply. No matter how steading it would have been, to indulge in habit that was hers and yet was never meant to be.

Even that small lapse, it was not foretold, so it wasn't allowed. She struggled against it, failed, and was shaken at her failure. Things were already different, and there was some comfort in that. And a horror, a horror realizing that what should have been was so utterly wrong.

I'm not like that. I'm not like this. Even as the other Natalia bantered and made light and didn't seem to feel any horror at the implications spread out before her, the real Natalia was torn between wanting to shut this other up and get to work helping, or to shut the other up and run to get closer so she could help faster.

There was comfort in the conflict, a comfort and horror were offered in equal measure.

After all, damnation was simply looking at the other side of the world, striving to see through different eyes.

Asch had taught her that.

 


	28. Enfolded part 5

Flicker of Judgment

Enfolded: part 5

The Vision: Silence was her answer

A moment of thought, a quick use of Luke's sword, and they had three passable face guards. Thus Natalia's scarf had proven useful. Saturated liberally with water from Guy's canteen and the flimsy fabric did a little more to muffle the reek. There was nothing else that could have been done, Artes had been known to go awry –or perhaps the Artes originator simply couldn't think clearly enough to cast- so even Luke's skills in wind Artes were dismissed as an option.

And considering the sheer mass of Miasma, it went beyond unreasonable to think that one man could banish it with the wave of a hand.

Thus they approached Akzeriuth, Luke leading, Guy trailing, Natalia between them both.

The gate was empty, dripping violet drops it hung by a rusted hinge, made millennia old by a few weeks of immersion in the poisons of the world.

A snippet of Locrian lore filtered through her mind, like a fever dream save she was well, all too well.

" _And thus, from the depths we sink, as we fall the depths arise to meet us in our ambitions. Seeking riches of the earth venoms arise, greed incarnate, sin incarnate, its touch is time, its voice madness, and we must partake, wholly partake. For it enters, through skin, through lung, through tearing eye. Sin, time, madness, such is the flawed trinity of Miasma, the ultimate discordance."_

She shivered, and amongst the violet haze there was a flicker of white. Luke offered her a hand, never looking back, still it was an offer made.

An offer accepted.

He didn't start, as… as her Luke would have. This fake Luke nodded, even as Guy let out a soft growl at her back. Lorelei's mercy she was getting more than a little sick and tired of Guy being so… so… boorish. She turned, and both she and this vessel in this misadventure glowered. To that Guy shelved his glare, his eyes skittering away even as a small shake took his frame.

She softened, inwardly she softened and would have apologized, ( _his phobia must be troubling him greatly, after all he was close, nearly touching distance_ ) save this other would not. So she could not. With a sniff she turned away.

Luke pulled her closer, then. Unbuttoned, than draped his cloak over her, enshrouding her with his luminance though she was hardly cold. And she could see fine, just fine, save now… Now that the light was blazing about her, stealing the edges of shapes and sense from her sight.

In that, first and sixth fonon, shadow and light, were not so different.

"Thank you." Natalia murmured, pulling the edges tighter.

Luke looked back (so rare a gesture, precious, a flash of green glimpsed in a life of flight) and smiled, for her, just for her.

Closer now, so close they could have kissed, forgetting miasma, people, duty, he pulled her kissing close, looked and marveled at her eyes. Whatever he saw there pleased him, his smile widened, a touch of awe flickered across the luminous lines of his face. One hand rose, twiddled her hair, a familiar gesture gifted from a lifetime together.

(One another had used, not Luke but…)

Down went the hand, tracing a path (he'd) she'd staked out before. Corner of the eye, to the edge of the lip. His thumb traced the path, he leaned (loomed) closer, his breathe stirred her bangs…

"Everything will be alright."

Tilting her head back, heart thundering she recalled through a haze of shock and wonder (and joy, there was joy in this, a horrible twisted joy. Her Luke, as he should have been, no amnesia, no loss, before her. Loving her, he _loved_ her, though he'd never said it each motion, each glance, affirmed and confirmed. He was hers, she was his, this was right.) one warning. Of heart's singularity.

And though they kissed, it wasn't her kissing him, rather this... this other that was and was not her. Their lips meshed, even as she protested inside, even as a world away Guy choked.

All unnoticed Guy spun on his heel and lashed out with a foot, kicking the gate.

Rust gave way, with a thunderous crash the gate fell down and cracked. Split in twain, it's rusted, decayed innards were visible to all. Luke had recoiled in shock, Natalia clasped in his arms, eyes wide, frame shaking.

Utterly insincere, lips twisted into a crooked grin, Guy met master and mistress' gaze.

"Oops."

In a grasp she never earned, shamed till burning by a love she'd never earned, Natalia was startled, for sure. But not like this other, who whimpered like a child seeing the dark for the first time. She had hopped and that was done, now, now secure and steady she wondered.

Important questions, worrisome ones.

Where was Ion, Ansie? Jade, where was Jade, she suddenly missed the Colonel's insight, would have endured his sarcasm and worse for his wisdom just then.

Where was Luke, the Luke she knew? What event had made the different, what made her Luke different from this one?

And what of her, where was her kindness? Where was she, and what was this person who was not her?

_You were never meant to be kind._

But she was, and that made a difference, not a big one, but it made a difference.

As she wondered, even as Luke soothed her, and she responded to his murmured endearments like a child would, she questioned. To silence, she wondered, and thus silence was her answer.

 


	29. Enfolded part 6

Flicker of Judgment 

Greater sin

They swept into town proper at an unknown hour. Venomed skies distorted the light as surely as they dissolved life. Still, they descended; time forsaking them, into living nightmare.

People were crammed into corners, propped against wooden walls. The miasma thickened the dark mercifully masking the sight of their suffering, muffling their pathetic cries.

Still, though the horrors were muzzled, it was nightmare, and horror, and terror, from first to last.

Tucked away like macabre afterthoughts, the peoples of Malkuth and Kimlasca soaked in poisons. They croaked and gasped, pled it the passerby and those who weren't really there, discoursing their pains to the shade cast by box, by tools… Others simply screamed, writhed and wheezed, assaulted by monsters that weren't.

Dementia was after all, one of the consistent signs of Miasma poisoning after all. With a disease that mirrored the sickness their barer feared most, madness was the only consistent sign. But by then, when the insanity took hold it was far too late to do anything for the stricken. One such mad man staggered from the dark, face horribly dropped, muscles slack, frame quaking. Infirmity aside he rushed the three, dirty red rags flapping about his limbs like misplaced cardinal wings. He wielded a pick ax, was large despite his illness, and he sought murder with more zeal than he'd ever sought wealth. He screamed as he approached, weaving but blade held dreadfully high and steady.

Guy swore, Luke blanched both took a half step so they stood before her, a protective formation.

(She reached for her bow, save her hands wouldn't move. Even as she recalled her limitations she realized she'd played the mad man's game once. A bemused, jaded span, of her soul noted this most clinically. She'd fallen to terror born madness just once, when the terror and revelation of such had been too much. That was the day she'd taken up Luke's sword against-)

Then she was shoved back, back and aside, Luke shook out his sword, Guy's slipped out with a snakey (sandy) hiss. The man screamed once more, shook, two blades piercing his abdomen. Both arched up, sliding under ribs to strike at the soft organs underneath. Luke's blade jutted out to the left, Guy's to the right, but despite the difference of direction both had struck in the same moment with the same intent.

A quick kill, so fast the man's face spasomed with realized pain, then with a shuddering sigh, agony not yet discovered, he died. Adverting her face, she shivered, took a few steps back. But this was not Batical, the ground was not even. She tripped over her own feet. A hot bitter taste filled her mouth… But that was nothing compared to smell of miasma and dying that filled her nostrils.

Turning away, from them both, she whimpered once and got sick twice.

Beyond, above, a babble of voices.

"Natalia."

(Not Natal.)

"Are you alright?"

Luke, Guy, she couldn't tell. She couldn't tell who talked, only knew without looking that the hand settling on her shoulder was Luke's, save it wasn't Luke. She wanted to wake up then, more than anything, she wished to be gone. To Batical, to Chesedonia, anywhere but here. But the hand that had seemed such a comfort turned traitorous. His touch steadied her, did not shake her awake from this living nightmare.

She could have hated him for that. The other, the person who was and was not her flinched at the caress meant to comfort. His touch felt hot, and wet, and there was a scent of iron (blood) about it that was unsettling (familiar).

_Natal, hold on, just a little more._

She whimpered. Eyes scrunched closed, wishing willing with all her heart and soul she could wake. Save… it wasn't Scored, so she couldn't wake. Not yet, not now.

"Is it, always like this?" Natalia whispered, scrubbing at smarting eyes that resolutely were scrunched shut.

"What?" Luke sounded confused.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Guy snapped. Softer then, gentle, he added. "Sometimes. It's not like the cities Natalia, not like Batical. Outside the main provinces murder… or even killing done in self-defense… it… it's never investigated."

"No law, no reason not too." Luke chimed in; she could easily imagine him shrugging, without his coat though there was no accompanying rustle to give it away. "There's a lot of bandit communities off of every highway. Belkend's road's crawling with them Natal. Same for Rugnica. There's a reason why they called Rugnica the "bandit kingdom" after all."

Quiet, barely a whisper, Guy added. "They call it the red span, now."

There was accusation in his tone, a flicker of anger.

To that Natalia felt her eyes crack open, through tears and vomit the road in front of her was less than clear, more than a little filthy. It lay before her, her hands braced against the earth, minding the warm wet span to the fore.

Asch's voice murmured, not in her ear, but in her mind. Even as Luke's hands slid up and down her arched back, Asch spoke, divorced of Luke. Comforting, cajoling, Luke set his gloved hands over her, trying to coax her to stand. Asch, indifferent to her other's suffering, seemed close, closer than Luke, an alien thought coiled in the confined of her head, a breathe at the back of neck.

 _Pay attention to what they're saying_. _There's something here I need to know… Something you know, that I don't. The significance though escaped you, so though you know it you don't know you know it yet._

Clearly they didn't teach clarity of thought at Daath. Natalia would have grimaced, glowered, but it wasn't foretold, so she could only shake and wince at the vile taste in her mouth.

All in all, if not for the God General's… babbling she'd have done the same as her other. In that they weren't that different. She, and this… other. God help her, not Lorelei, but a God beyond the Score bound entity that set her feet to this road and ordered that she walk.

"Natal?" Hands slipped about her, patience spent on codling he was going to haul her to her feet it seemed.

As for whom, probably Luke, possible Asch, most likely of all... Lorelei.

 _I think_ … she thought muzzily at the presence in her mind, _I see why you hate him so much_.

Humored. _Hate is not the word, it fails so spectacularly._

_I noticed._

_Eyes on the road, beloved. Both eyes open and on the road, it's coming now, get ready._

_What's coming?_

He was silent, gone. No light or diming to warn her this time, there one second, than gone the next. Idly she thought of bronze stairs, of chasing him (Luke) 'round Auldrant again and again, in a childhood ago. Standing on tip toe, poking at bulbous blobs on a gigantic globe, rattling off names of cities and towns. Like they'd mattered, like they were places from fairytale never to be seen, only to be marveled at.

Now this "other" was at one of them, and she, not the "other", had seen more than one. Of the two of them she felt to be the luckier one. While her trip had been unpleasent she'd changed for it.

For the better, she knew.

The person she was not, seemingly needed some form of chatter to comfort her in these times, for her mouth opened. Inanity poured out. "Whatever are you talking about?"

It wasn't as if the hints weren't there, dark hints, allusions to things better left alone.

"Hmmm?" Luke's resonse was a touch.. light, more than a bit evasive.

No guilt though, she noted, none at all.

"It's all really simple, Natalia." Guy drawled, bite back to his tone. She flinched, recalling the ruined gate. Oblivious, it seemed to the fact that his Lord was in hearing shot, or perhaps he was simply indifferent, Guy continued, even as Luke held her up, held her close. "There were bandits out there, a few town's worth of people scraping by."

"They made their living preying on others." Luke glowered.

"There were comunities of refugees out there, Luke. From Hod and other places whiped clean off the map during the last war."

"They could have gone to any province by now, moved on."

Guy snarled, teeth clenched, blue eyes blazing. "Sometimes, my Lord, it's damned hard to pick up you life when ther aren't even peices left anymore."

Silence, Luke tightened his grip about Natalia's waist, shrugged. Indifferent was not the word, to quote Asch, it failed spectacularly.

"Regardless, they aren't there anymore." Luke countered breezily. "They were causing civil unrest on the Kimlasca side of the bourder, exciting the Malkuthite side, so a few months ago, with Uncle's blessing, I went down and dealt with it."

A pause, realization sunk in. Sick, Natalia wanted nothing more to recoil in disgust, thrust this pseudo Luke off of her. Confused, this... vessel... only tipped her head.

"How? What do you mean by "dealt with"?"

"Quickly, cleanly." Luke evaded. He kissed her then, an idle caress. "Don't worry about it, it was Scored, everything came out alright."

To that Guy laughed, a bitter sound. "The Necromancer waits for us in the town proper, my Lord, you'll be in good company."

Luke took one breathe, another, checked and banished his rage with the motion.

"Guy, shut up."

Well not all of it.

 _Did it happen?_ Asch's voice murmurred in her ear, intent, soft. _Is what he said, true?_

Thinking of Luke, all his days bound in the manner, never leaving day after day, relief crashed over her in a soothing wave. She wished to shake her head. SHe couldn't but the impulse was with her. Still, Asch seemed to understand.

Her thought, his, she'd never know, still it came, confined, not heard, but heartfully felt _._

_Thank god._

Her thought then, no confusion there. _Why was that important?_

 _It's a deviant, a big one_.

Impulse, years of teaching had framed the thought before it's implications could be understood. It slipped out, despite her relief. _A sin_.

_I think killing over a thousand people's a bigger sin than a chosing not too, don't you agree?_

There was something dark about his tone, humerous, but dark, sickeningly light. In short, it was utterly Asch.

She almost smiled, wished to grin, though she wan't quite sure if it was his impulse or hers. He seemed to have take a place in her head now, but at least she wasn't alone.

_Now what?_

_Just follow the path, you're almost done._

"Natal? Ready to go yet?" Though tender there was an edge of impatience to this artificial Luke's tone.

No question now, the thought was alien, masculan, dark and light and sick all at once. There was relief in it though, a thread of pleasure. _He's twice the bastard I'll ever be._

_Why? Why is it that what Luke does even matter to you?_

Silence, a chuckle. Than silence again, and despite how she nattered he didn't answer.

"Come on Natal, don't think about it. It's easier that way." Arm slung about her shoulders, holding her tight, Luke fon Fabre, a man who never was, gentle ushered her down the path. Into miasma and worse. Guy trailed behind, blade in hand, he kept pace at their back.

 


	30. Enfolded part 7

Flicker of judgment 

 rushed decay

_Why do you call me Natal?_

_Because it's what I like to call you._

She checked a counter about redundant answers, and knew that despite her efforts that he heard her. After all, his chuckle was a confirmation all of its own.

 _And thus,_ She could feel his smile. His humor was like an impulse, felt but suppressed. Her own lips ached to quirk, but they couldn't. All in all she felt she understood his way of expressing humor quite well now. _We come full circle._

_I don't understand…_

Then, perhaps it was his insight, his recollection, added to the fact that they were quite literally sharing the same space. But she suddenly did understand. This realization was like an epiphany, save untroubled with darkness. One of those rare "ah ha" moments.

She fought a laugh, even as the other stumbled, pressed against Luke, seeking his support.

 _I'm not that irritating!_ Natalia flared, meant too, but that sneaking snigger slipped out.

_Did I say you were?"_

_You said I was exasperating!_

_There_ is _a difference, Natal._

_Not by much!_

Amused, enfolded in soft precious warmth, (more precious than gold, gold was fast becoming a farce to her) the Bloody's humor enfolded her, even as Luke's hands slipped about the other Natalia. Supporting and alluding to something so much more. Even as the "other" sighed, folded to the touch, and Guy seethed a world away, Natalia felt her hackles raise. Or rather, they would have, these weren't her hackles, hence she was not allowed to let them rise.

All in all it was very frustrating.

She still wasn't comfortable with... with this Luke touching her. Truth be told, she… she didn't like it.

Revelation did that sometimes.

Concern: _What's wrong_?

One moment, two -how she wished to take a few deep breathes!- passed. But every impulse was denied. So her "other" blathered, about uneven paths and even as Luke swept her into his arms Natalia cringed into herself.

How she wished he wouldn't.

 _Natal._ His tone, she couldn't place it, never hearing its' like directed at her before. Unhappy, surely. There was that, sadly familiar even in the short spans they'd spoke before. But... there was something more, something… tight, concerned, perhaps.

_She loves him, very much, doesn't she?_

He was quiet then, silent; even the sense of his presence seemed to be on the decline. It was such a sharp contrast from before. A… flinch? She wasn't sure, only knew that this idle curiosity which was in truth not so idle tore at him. Still, it was her thoughts, and you couldn't control your mind, only your mouth.

Then, at last, after he'd been so quiet she was sure he'd be gone. _She was Scored too._

A chill threaded her spine. Defiance stirred in her heart. _That's not love._

Houses now, some wood, some swathed in mud and thus their material unidentifiable. They slinked past these, the miasma stretching shadows so they towered, silent monoliths dedicated to poverty. Luke ordered Guy to the fore, to stop slinking like a thief at his back. With a grunt Guy obeyed, blade out, sweeping it too and fro, challenging Miasma with steel. Futility, first to last.

_What's love then? If everything is Scored, everything dictated by the Score, than what is love but animal lust dictated by Lorelei's writ?_

It was her turn to be silent; emotions rose and broiled under a mask that was so perfect it could let nothing slip. Hiding with her, under the sheet of this other, closer than hand in hand, closer than embrace.

_It's everything Lorelei isn't._

A biting humor, black and coiling divested of warmth slid from him to her. It was her turn to flinch then, as scalding black humor embraced her. She suddenly wished her eyes were her own, so they might seep tears. There would be an easing of her pain with that, a relief.

But, ever denied, she could not cry. So instead she felt. Felt impulse, denied expression, it made the Lorcian definition of hell, a thing of piddling repetition and remembrance, fall to its' true insignificance.

They approached the building, Luke holding her, Guy at the back. A soldier in blue pulled open the door at their approach. Hanging on a rusted hinge was a sign, Mayor's Residence; or rather she thought that's what it said. The paint was pealing.

The whole town, like its people, had fallen into a kind of rushed decay. Above and beyond, Luke spoke to the guard, tended introductions to all around.

"Luke Fon Fabre, and princess, Natalia? An honor." The Malkuthite snapped a quick salute. "Colonel Jade Curtiss is waiting for you inside."

Lips quirking into wry grin, Guy chuckled. "Never mind little ol' me."

Safe in Luke's arms Natalia stirred, cracked a grin as small as Guy's was bitter. "We'd hardly forget you, Guy, please don't carry on so."

"Yeah, Lorelei knows you'd never let us."

To Luke's sally Guy's warm eyes went flat, his smile twisted into something beyond bitter.

"I'll wait outside." The servant said.

And never mind Natalia's many attempts, she could not sway Guy to join them. Exasperated with them all, Luke simply shrugged, and Natalia still in his arms swept them both inside.

 


	31. Enfolded: Hollow Gold

 

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 31

Enfolded: Hollow Gold

Inscrutable and ever smiling, Jade had not been so different. His uniform was the same, it's polished buttons and stiff edges were unruffled despite the calamity all about. Even in the Miasma, he seemed to gleam with his own light, the edge of his demons grins and buttons both. A nod, he nodded in response to Luke's salutation, the edges of his glasses glittering like a sardonic afterthought.

"Your majesty and grace, this barrowed house is humbled."

"It should be commoner's lot and all." Luke had bantered, laughing at a joke made in horrid taste. The callousness of her fiancée made the real Natalia cringe and the person sharing her head snarl.

_Insensitive ass._

Definitely Asch there, or rather she hoped. Her thoughts were running parallel with his far too often this day.

Like the Jade she knew, his eyes were a familiar blood red. Unfathomable, devilish, housing secrets that made her skin creep and her breathe hitch. Luke settled her in place, commandeering a sofa of dun hue. Tender, gentle, crude humor gone then, enfolded in his own light, he seemed angelic.

"Comfortable?" Luke murmured. She nodded then, breath, both hers and this "other"s, stolen by his mere regard.

Catching the tenor of her thoughts, if not the words, the Bloody tossed his two Gald down.

_He looks all well and good, but he's a bastard. Keep that firmly to the fore of your mind._

An absent defense, when had she not been defending Luke after all… She'd always… _You're being unnecessarily harsh…_

A snort, utterly disdainful. _I didn't merrily march down to Rugnica and murder a thousand civilians. They may call me the Bloody, Natal, but I'm not_ that _cold_.

Forced to recall, she winced, seeing the unsavory side of this Luke once more. Asch's chuckle sounded more than a mite malicious.

Oblivious to the side drama (or was that internal drama, after all they weren't an aside, they were there, at the heart), Jade chuckled, a blood curdling sound that made her stiffen and set Luke to hopping.

"Amusing…" Red eye flicked over her, stayed.

A minute passed, then two. She shivered, Luke scowled and time tensely slipped by.

Luke was one to despise being ignored. Being a noble meant being the center, the fore of all's attention, and it was one of the few "benefits" he truly enjoyed. "I beg your pardon? You know, old man, I don't appreciate you staring at my wife like th-"

Red eyes slid off of Natalia, considered Luke. Glimmering with mirth, a cruel type, akin to the Bloody's, Jade Curtiss smiled.

Baring all his teeth in a devil's smile.

"She wears no ring, nor do you. Both of you are before your coming of age, so therefore, despite Kimlasca's attempts to so inbreed it's nobility to the point of incapacity, you're not bound by ah… how do your kind put it…" Lifting a hand he tapped his lower lip, tea set aside, repast forgotten. "-ties of blood and honor. You are not bound, neither one of you took your oath, nor has the Scored hour of your copulation been met." Recalling his drink, the Malkuthite lifted it, studiously considered it as if measuring the Miasma it might have gathered, then risk calculated, he took a sip. "I do so hope neither one of you have taken advantage of any… solitary moments to explore the difference between boys and girls to their further most extent?"

Luke went crimson, holy aura gone under a flash of more than human chagrin. Natalia sputtered, the "other" did, anyways. As for the real Natalia… She was faced with a more internal difficulty.

There was a curious undercurrent to the other in her mind. Had they been face to face she was sure there would have been a mix of jealousy and curiosity in his expression. Regardless of whatever his face might have held his thoughts told more than enough. Forget words, she was synced to the tenor of his musing and that told enough.

_Before you asked, I did not, and if you're a bore enough to press as to why not I will personally kick you so hard you won't be able to have children, ever._

A shock, he started under the magnitude of her threat. Then, when braced against his rage, expecting to be overwhelmed in his anger at her audacity… His true response trickled past her walls of tension. The real Natalia was so startled that the "other" nearly hopped in response. Pleasure, he was pleased.

Pleased beyond pleasure, he nearly purred in her mind.

 _You_ never _considered him worthy…_

Mind to mind, lies were impossible; you could not coach the synapsis that preluded thought to deviate from their proper paths of fact. That was the role of the tongue, the afterthought, to tease impulse and want to more civil means.

And never mind the restrictions, his next feeling slipped over her like a coat offered to comfort. Save there was no warmth to the offering, no comfort as the folds of his mind sidled over her own. Utterly uncensored, completely tangled. Part satisfaction, part… satiation… primal and wanting, tinged with hope, she shook as his lust and… and love… slid over her. Possessive, surely. Jealous, certainly. Closer than embrace, both were embroiled in an Arte that made their very souls touch.

She tasted his obsession as if it were her own. Felt her own heart quicken with his satisfaction, felt her own skin tingle as his need slid over it, like long fingered gloves, as heavy as a black tabard, and almost as choking. Need and want, duty and obligation, an oath taken and an oath broken, they raged through him, compatible contradictions, like blood through his veins.

She wanted to recoil, to wake, more than anything in all Auldrant.

"Natal?" Luke touched her, didn't shake her. In that he betrayed her. Had her eyes been her own… but they weren't, tears were ever denied.

(She'd thought his eyes were hollow. Carved out. As if the humanity had been stripped away, level by level until a hollow monument from which he could see through had been left.)

She was shivering, and never knew why, save that Natalia knew why. Gods of the fonon belt, she knew why and she shook for the knowing! This other though, she smiled, said something silly, about a goose walking over her grave.

"It's unsettling circumstances, your majesty." The Necromancer drawled. Repast done, banter forsaken. "But if we've to set things right, we should probably move along."

"Agreed." Luke nodded. "But Natalia, if you're feeling sick..."

"I'm... I will be well, and you'll need me."

He tasted her fear, for her thoughts were as much his as his were hers. Silent for a good long while, he waited, let the gathering of would be heros pick themselves up from their various places of repose. All turned to the door, marched out. Save… only one of the three truly knew how to march, and he did so. It was some subtle rebuke perhaps or habits handover. Though he looked the same, this other Jade was like the real in one aspect. She hardly knew him at all and couldn't divide humor from habit, and like with the true man she knew as "Jade Curtiss" she ascribed his motive as one of the world's mysteries and let it go at that. Luke was already out the door, a few barbed comments marked his reunion with Guy.

She moved to join them, craving the familiar. A blue gloved hand on her shoulder caused her to stop.

"You can turn around now."

Jade's voice, surely, clipped and cool… Save it echoed. Guided by that unnatural voice she spun about. Gold had replaced red, a glimmering pool twinned and held in a place tears would have better served.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Light of the Sacred Flame. All you do is upset her with this unseemly activity. Let her wake, let her go, and take your place in fates wheel. It is Scored."

Asch's fury raged in her soul, set her to shaking, but here, now, in this precious moment her mouth and body were her own. So she spoke, for the first time since this misadventure started.

"No."

"I don't want to speak with you, child of Batical, I seek…"

"You'll have to go through me first, and know I've hardly started..."

Golden eyes went wide, familiar face twisted into an alien show of shock. Lorelei, or perhaps Lorelie's mouth piece, gapped at her. Completely flummoxed by this surge of defiance. After all, defiance was hardly Scored.

Jades, It's… mouth opened, a windy rebuke surely gathering…

"I won't listen to you." She hissed, hands fisting, face flushing through the shades of rage and shame. "Eleven years, you think I'll accept that? That eleven years, no matter how glorious, is worth the loss of half a people of a world? Do you think anyone sane would consent the end should come in their lifetime?"

The mouth snapped closed, but not before offering a route. "Deviating from the Score will lead to chaos, destruction, loss beyond deviation's gain. The Score is a path of least pain, least resistance, requested by Yulia Jue in ages past."

"I." Natalia ground out. "Am not a mere animal, content to be lead, content to be... _euthanized_ when my life grows inconvenient to your… scheming."

Face furrowed, gold eyes glittering in malice, Jade's lips pealed back in a familiar show of frustration. Terrifying, it was truly terrifying how much they looked the same in anger… Asch and… and Lorelei.

"Blot out your hearing, gouge out your eyes, neither will avail you from the path I'll dictate."

To It's (God's, Lorelei's?) rage she smiled. Recognizing yet another quote. Surety banished fear, confidence took terrors place. Like hell, like namesake, both were pathetic. "That's all you can say, isn't it? What others have said, to you, of you, about you? How utterly futile."

She turned on her heel then, content to leave this malcontent echo behind.

"Child!" Lorelei called at her back. "False child of-"

And, utterly juvenile, but oh so right, she looked over her shoulder.

"I'm not listening!" She sing-songed. Pulling a trick from the _real_ Luke's arsenal. Not this fraudulent one who seemed an angel but was not. "And I could care less anyway."

"Natalia!" Not Jade's voice, merely an echo of all the voices who'd ever took her name in hate. The volume was temendus, and set her teeth to rattling about in her skull.

Indifferent she carried on.


	32. Enfolded: orgin point

 

Flicker of Judgment

Enfolded: Origin point

_If I gave you what you wanted, waking? Would you take it? It's what your heart cries for, the cause of such burning behind your eyes. Though they may not see, I see, and can and will consent your will. Quit this path, it is not Scored._

She grit her teeth, wished to do so, but could not. Still, he'd seen? Let him see this than.

_Abstain from this rebellion, seek prosperity. Question not…_

_Does the words, "shut up" not compute or something?_ Asch snarled. Providing flame for her fury, voice to her frustration. He aimed it well, for surely had he not all would be ruins about him. Never mind it was ruins all about him, but still, these ruins weren't his fault.

_Aberrations should be excised._

Those words were the last words of Daath, Yulia's closest friend. He'd been the aberration then, taken his own life after uttering such words, enacting one final betrayal. Yulia had died at the stake for Daath's actions, after saving the world, she'd cast it in Lorelei's sacred light and had died as a result under the drive of the masses. That too had been Scored, or so the legends say.

Again and again, she saw Lorelei's eyes, taking the place where natural colors should have resided. The passerby, the sickened host, she who tended the fallen. They looked to her, nestled in the crook of Luke's arms, eyes flashing with unnatural illumination. And, when she met their eyes, those known and unknown, there was gold, a flash, and words. Repeated again and again, ad-nausiam, till nauseated.

That could have been the fumes of course, the coiling arising venoms of the planet, but more likely than not were not.

_If I gave you what you wanted…_

_You don't know what I want, you can't understand._

Silence for her vehemence, a pause, she acted upon it, even as her other sought solace in Luke's strong arm she nestled against Asch's very mind. Safe, the warmth of his regard assured her, she was as safe as could be. Lorelei might look upon her in this sanctuary of its chosen hero's arm, glare at her with barely concealed hate, but Asch was there, would keep her safe.

An assurance, a curse: _Without his light, he is blind. Surrounded by the melodies of his foretelling, he is deaf to all but perceived perfection. In truth, he is deaf to the cries of his creation, surrounded by himself; he stagnates amongst the poisons of an earth hell bent on rejecting him._

A question, a jolt of surprise. _He's trapped?_

_Since the first scoring, and every utterance of that foul melody adds but another set of bars._

Realization: _They called you…_

He cut her off with the barest of chuckles. The Luke who was not took advantage of her immediate presence, let a hand slid down her back, possessive, protective. _It's gone now, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Every flame burns out._

_Because it's Scored._

A laugh. _The laws of fonology state that all born of the fifth fonon must feed on something, but only a fool adds fuel to a blaze as destructive as the one I lay claim too. Lorelei would use me… him... as a catalyst. I would not, so… an alternative was sought, a safeguard established. Thus,_ Luke fon Fabre _is summoned, to duty and obligation in the far flung mining city of Kimlasca's own. And in turn, per his Score, summons his very light to his side._

A flash of gold, she looked up, sought and found the source, Luke looked down at her, his very eyes no longer his own.

Thus Lorelei spoke to her, a final time.

"And he shall be as a weapon… and bring calamity upon himself and destruction to all about him…"

A breath, Luke drew deep the venoms of the world, his very essence dimming under the pall of Miasma.

"Will you stay, when I have power to grant you what you want?"

Beyond, Luke bantered, the words washed way under the pull of Lorelei's own. Wonder of wonders, Jade was actually explaining something. Vital details were being lost in this moment, vital and meaningless banter that might have held a key to avoidance. Natalia grit her teeth, added a reason all her own to hate Lorelei, one that Asch couldn't lay claim to first.

 _You'll gift me ignorance than, at this very threshold you demand I turn away, seek ignorance_.

Hardly ruffled, the essence of the seventh fonon smiled at her, dazzling bright he corrected. "Tranquility."

_You don't strive for tranquility, it's not something earned, not a reward for submission. Submission for submissions sake is slavery. Tranquility is man's birthright not a prize you dangle before their eyes. As for what I can earn under you, I'll not place myself, my curiosity, my people, or any others to your altar. Your altar has rusted under the wash of blood, spilled in your name, and you've never noticed._

"The Score, the drive…"

Asch snarled, shook with rage. _Again, what part of "shut up" don't you get? How about, silence! Does that mean anything to you? Or, stick your own fonon belt up your ass, how's that?_

"Asch, you are my light, cast in my image-"

_I reject you, you bastard! I've done so since I was thirteen years old! I've never had my Score read, I never will! I won't submit to your so called "perfection", ten years, don't make me sick. My own children wouldn't be past infancy if I took your so-called "enlightened path" and let the world end._

_You were never meant to have children, to continue the line…_

_As I was never meant to be kind._

Silence, Lorelei fell silent under such a simple statement.

And in that perfect moment, Jade spoke, shattering the internal silence.

"It appears ladies and gentlemen, noble and… common… birth, we've found it."

"What?" Luke's voice was hitched with excitement. "Found what?"

"The front door, of course." Jade drawled.

"To?" Guy snapped.

"To, two, or too?" Jade snickered.

"For the love of –" Luke snarled, turning away, snapping off snippets of words that were probably not supposed to be heard. She heard them though, the other didn't know what they meant but her fight with the God Generals –and a quick look up in the dictionary afterwards- had taught her most of them.

"Jade!" Natalia huffed. She'd fallen into full nag mode, and to that the Necromancer grinned a bit warmly at her downfall as it were.

"Yes?"

"Where are we about to enter?"

"I believe… the theologians call it "the Sephiroth" or the "memory trees" echoes of some greater tree, if you believe Daaths many mythologies of course."

"Which you don't." Guy guessed, and to his correct flash of intuition Jade nodded.

"I don't believe in anything anymore." The Necromancer shrugged bitterness alight in his red eyes. Some secret loss twisting the smile so it surely hurt. "Belief is a form of faith, a conclusion without evidence to back it. It's one of the many fallacies of human kind. My favorite absurdity is: God is Good. You assume first there is a God, and then you assume you know it's nature. All without personally encountering the being, or its goodness beforehand."

"Do, what do you believe in?" Guy dared, and for his audacity red eyes flicked upon him.

Under that gaze any would have flinched, the servant was no exception.

"Nothing." The Necromancer chuckled. "I _do_ like good people though."

"Really?" Ever cheerful, Natalia smiled. "Well that's good."

"They're _so_ fun to tease."

Luke wasn't the only one to groan at that.

"You're an evil old bastard, aren't you?" Luke grumbled through the palm he'd slapped over his own face.

"Why yes, and you would not believe how much fun it makes life."

"I have a headache…" Guy grumbled.

"You aren't the only one." Luke snapped.

Earlier:

They walked as four now. Luke idly held her hand, Guy sulked a bit back, and Jade held the rear, cajoling them to greater speed with nasty witticism and cutting remarks. Still, they were blessed, or so Luke had assured. Four was a sacred number; the holy party of Yulia had been of that sum. Counting Lorelei, of course.

Now, if a proper tally of those was to be taken, those within and without this seeming, the total was very different. Two Natalia's one within, one without, Luke, Jade, Asch, Guy, and… of course, Lorelei itself. Seven was not a sacred number, hardly special, it was the sum of those maestros who'd defied Yulia's ascension, and those whom defied the drive of the Score, they had died. Refusing to think of omens and the like, Natalia simply was carried along. This other was more than capable of walking, though she flinched at every barb the Colonel threw.

Pleased at the response, Jade tossed out more barbs, the other Natalia cringed at every verbal blow, and thus they carried on, at a noticeable wince.

Luke hadn't been pleased about that. And Luke, being… well Luke, he'd tried to defend her. One wuick verble match later and he'd been routed by the Necromancer's quicker wit, and been so utterly humiliated he didn't dare try again. Guy seemed chipper though, at least as chipper as one could be… all things considered.

As for the real Natalia, she'd learned long ago to let Jade's words slide right on by. It just... was better that way.

Asch's voice murmured in her mind. _I have to wonder, if your stoicism was supposed to be Scored._

Tears were pricking the other Natalia's eyes as Jade let out a rather nasty shot about the worth of Kimlascan nobility.

 _By the sound of it, probably not_. He answered himself.

 _I can barely stand her._ Natalia grumbled.

 _She is annoying_. The Bloody agreed. _But Luke's mind is even worse, more narrow for one thing. Still, he's a cunning old Malkuthite. If the Necromancer weren't spending all his creativity getting under her skin she'd probably be having a nervous breakdown by now._

Yes, yes, Natalia could understand that. Eyes down, this fake Natalia didn't seem inclined to look about unless it was to look at Luke. And while it helped the real Natalia not see any of the horrors going on about her, the sounds were awful. Though she didn't want to see, she needed to, and this… this other wasn't helping at all with that.

 _Not exasperating?_ Natalia countered archly.

_She's an aggravation of all Auldrant itself. That and a complete mockery of the original._

_I'll take that as a compliment._

_Good._ A snort. _It was meant as one._

_Has anyone ever mentioned how tactful you are?_

_Once, I was compared to a bore on one occasion._

_A boar?_

_No, a bore._

Oh dear… Natalia sighed, or would have could she have.

_Noir was feeling… kind that day. It was a step up from my other moniker._

She didn't want to ask, not really, but… but her curiosity was ten times a demon for nattering at her. It wasn't proper to pry, to inquire…

Hearing the tenor of her thoughts if not the words, Asch the Bloody chuckled _. Asch, the Bloody_ _Insensitive Jack Ass._ He supplied wryly, she could almost see him smiling. Natalia could almost see Noir screeching that title in her mind. A scene supplied by her over active imagination showed her a bewildered God General being confronted by a screaming Noir. In confirmation of her imagining, Asch sighed. _I_ still _don't know what I said wrong that day…_

 _You mean the day she… umm called you…_ There really was no delicate way to put it…

 _An insensitive bloody jack ass?_ The Bloody supplied.

 _You inversed that on purpose!_ Natalia accused.

 _Perhaps._ The Bloody seemed to shrug.

Wending through the won and its attendant horrors, its monoliths of poverty and the debris of human suffering at the altar's base, they found the road, once steep became treacherous. Shrapnel was strewn about, bits of rusted metal, abandoned tools. The purple tinged coils of Miasma were darkening, purifying in their purification the closer they went.

Then, at paths' end, the cavern.

Luke held her back, Jade came to a halt after matching his pace with theirs. One quick look, a blink, and the man called Necromancer aligned perfectly set glasses. Guy let out a low whistle of shock.

Before them, violet tinged maw wreathed in thick mauve strands, was the mine's opening. Rouge stalagmites and stalactites dripped from stone walls, seeping venom. Arching across it's maw, in ancient ispanion, were words etched in black paint. Words made leprous by the Miasma's unrelenting touch.

Still, it could be read, so Guy indulged them

"Cavern fourteen."

"The origin point of the leak." Jade flashed a quick grin. "In their lust for richest, they delved too deep, these Kimlascans of Akzeriuth."

"You know, that line's been used to the point of being trite, right?" Luke grumbled in a sick sounding voice.

"Regardless, thus is the state of things." Jade quipped. "Shall we go on down?"


	33. Enfolded: Dreams and Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Inspired by the fan amv called "Pieces of Luke", a rather touching Luke/Tear piece that also sums up the game really well. Also, I watched the Anime version of the fall of Akzeriuth for reference and note taking. Anyway, I'm updating/transfering a little faster to try to keep a deadline of my own. Not to the point I'm sacrificing quality, but there are other TOA fics that I'd like to get too… as well as a ff7 piece that's nattering at me to be completed.
> 
> Thanks to all who've reviewed, kudos'ed and favorited and hopefully the long haitus I just pulled on you guys is made worth it with these updates. I plan to finish transfering the "enfolded" sections today.

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 33

Enfolded: Such are dreams and nightmare, living

A nervous tick, she hummed, softly, in her throat. All to counter the stifling pressure of that soundless descent. She'd cycled through lullabies and chipper melodies, at last coming to the last song in her repitore. A rather sad thing, wistful and somber, and Luke who knew her tastes and shared so many of them smiled. He knew the words; she didn't need to sing the words. It was a bittersweet song of coming and goings, of losing and findings.

A perfect mirror, for their lives.

Eyes locked on the floor, Natalia had staggered forward. Blindly putting one foot in front of the other. She held onto the holster of Luke's sword, silken locks teasing her fingers and wrists like an idle after thought. Thus they'd descended, folding to a tradition taboo.

Guy had noted, softly strangled for seeing, Jade had… well done what Jade always did. Smirked and said nothing.

"It'll be alright, I promise."

Never looking back, always ahead, he had stopped. His hair had tangled about her knuckles, gently binding them together. Still, her terror remained, despite his familiar reassurance. He listened a bit as Natalia's unspoken song played on. More felt than heard, and to her dogged dedication to the melody he reached back, enfolding his hand over her own.

Guy and Jade were to the fore, checking out the room that held the sacred Sephiroth.

This was a private moment, just him and her.

"Natal. Hold together, for me, please."

A command, accidental, absent, slipped past her trembling lips. "Face me."

The hand holding her own, shook. He did not comply. A touch of treason there, perhaps. To soften the denial he slid his thumb over her knuckles, an idle caress.

"Please…" She whimpered, her hand shaking, her face spasoming as she fought and failed against the tears. "Look me in the eyes and…"

"I _can't_."

A breathe, two, passed. Moments uncounted, their hearts beat too fast for that, his and hers. She could feel the thunder of his own pulse in the touching of their entwined hands.

"I won't lie to you, beloved. It's not my nature, not Scored to be my nature."

"Damn the Score!" She hissed, tightening her grip. "Fine, if you won't or can't tell me that, then tell me what you're going to do! Tell me that!"

"I... you wouldn't understand."

"Probably not, but whose fault is that?"

"Yours." He shook his hand and she let him go. "Only yours."

Face pale, eyes wide she shook, nearly cried at his unintentional cruelty. Such was the weight of uncensored truth. It could and did cut to the bone.

Luke cleared his throat, shifted from one foot to the other. Still, his tone was as calm and casual, as if he were discussing the weather. Thus, he carried on.

"When you're more composed, feel free to join at us. But don't take too long, we've things we have to do, specific places to be."

Silent, she'd been silent, felt profane for being here, seeing this. Save… this was supposed to be her; this was what it was supposed to _be_. And, even as the other Natalia cried, curled up in a ball and sobbed as terrors unsoothed and uncensored finally were realized, did the real Natalia, the girl before this moment who was to live long enough to fulfill this moment notice something. It was only visible when the tears were their most violent, and vision it's weakest, but it was there.

A thread of gold, thick and beckoning, unrolling before her a precious path with no substance. When she stood it would drive her on, illuminate her place. She'd not need Luke's guidance to find it, for she could see it, but only with fading sight.

Sickened, and weary, so horribly weary of this girl who was yet was not her's crying she thought of an old yarn. A Chesedonian saying that the merchants so loved. _No substance, no worth_.

You could not measure a promise. It held no water, fed no mouths, satiated no hunger, and therefore… a promise had no worth. Only promises kept were precious, and only after they were honored in full, with the cleanest of intent. Words could not be warped, clause an cause could not be seeped in blood.

Those were the only promises worth keeping, the only ones that were precious.

_This is wrong._

Silence, then a sigh. _It's how it's supposed to be._

_I'm not her._

_It need not be exact, merely compatible._

_I'm NOT her!_

_You aren't, but are you compatible?_

_She's-_ Natalia groped through her vocabulary. How could she describe what she was supposed to be when she it felt so… off? She didn't even like the girl, but distaste aside she wanted to comfort her in this horrid moment. _-younger than I am._

 _By exactly two and a half weeks_. Asch the Bloody noted. _That's not enough of a difference to make Lorelei pause in his grand Score. He'll make what happens happen, and being kind and a better person isn't going to save you._

God help her, some merciful God beyond her comprehension, he was right! This was happening, the leak had been sprung, the poisons of the world were surely seeping out… Those people, her people... they were slowly dying under the pall of Miasma. Surely Akzeriuth was doomed, surely…

A reassuring thought. _She isn't me_.

A question, completely justified, expected, yet unanticipated by her mind. _Why?_

Her heart however… she knew the answer.

_Because…_

Beyond them the girl sobbed, never seeing the path before her, it's vibrancy, it's pseudo glory. She was blind, a little girl lost in the dark. Luckily, for her piece of mind the dark did not snigger, there were no monsters amongst the soil that set the floor to beating with the heartbeat of the damned.

_Because…_

With a wet sniffle the girl swiped at her eyes, slowly stood. Time was running out, Natalia the real Natalia knew it. Panic wrung her mind, this was the end. The last steps in the route, after all Asch had promised to show her the beginning of the end. It had been an honor unlooked for; one she wished fervently would have been deferred to another.

_Because why, Natal?_

Like a hand over her own, a ghost of silk teased her writs. She recalled banter in the dark, behemoths of bone.

A memory: "I've found the way out, ladies, if you'll follow me?"

Asch's presence was the only thing holding back hysterics, faced with her own pathos she nearly broke, was nearly as broken thing as the child before her.

A response, memory calling memory, like to like: "I thought you said you _memorized_ the route!" Tear spat, furious but edging back, tossing knives into the snarling dark all the while.

Unrepentant to the last, Jade simply shrugged. "Now now your Excellency, you mal align me."

I think we-" Natalia snatched up a few rocks, tossed one into the crush of approaching Pan even as she back peddled for all she was worth. "-know you-" Another throw, "-far too well."

Old terror blended with new terror, she shook under the force of recalled runs in the dark, dodging spears thrown by demons left to fester in the dark.

And, this was what Natalia knew. _How_ she knew was something of memory, something of defiance, utterly unknown. Such was the stuff of mysteries.

 _She's never seen a hard thing. Never made a heard choice. Never had a loss_.

_And you have?_

The other Natalia stood, straightened, smoothed her dress just so and took one step towards the door.

The real Natalia's heart simply broke.

_Yes._

_How?_

_Because… the person I love, can't love me. Because love isn't dictated by the Score, it's made by memories. Those precious times, we... spent together… He doesn't have it anymore; he'll never get it back._

She nearly choked on it, but somehow, someway, held herself together even as this girl had fallen apart.

 _He doesn't_ want _it back._

A question coached in soft tones, gentle but firm. _What have you seen_?

The answer came quick and sure. And had her face been her own it would have heated in shame. Remembered was relived, such was how things went when you wended your own path without the golden light of prosperities call to block out the past.

_Poverty. I didn't want to see… but I went. To the slums, to the docks. I did it right after Luke came back and I knew he didn't recall his promise. I... I wanted to see if... if it was needed._

_Then, truth: I didn't want to have to do it alone. I didn't want to hold up both our promises alone, but when I saw… I knew I had to._

Losses color was drear grey, steel bright, and as blinding as it was cutting. Mired in dirt and muck, it shone in the eyes of starving faces, in sick hands it had a home. Sickness without salvation, thirst without quenching, she'd seen and to some degree for seeing had felt these things all her own.

He digested her answer, emphasized with... with curiously her shame and her anger (no surprise with the anger part, Asch was a rather angry man all around).

A moment, another step.

 _Tell me about the hardest choice_. Asch cajoled.

_The docks… the disaster in the fields, the flooding. A wave breaker broke, but we dnd't know about it until it was too late. A freak wave washed out all the nutrients of the soil, washed away half a years of crops saturated, the land destroyed with the infusion of salt. We had rations, it wasn't that bad a loss for the city but it was a small village that provided for Batical it was a disaster. The people, we offered them work at the docks so they'd have a means to survive until… until we could evaluate the situation._

_They called it a loss, the council. I knew that they didn't like the little farmstead villages, called them "quaint" and all. But, it was there way of life._

_The villages were razed, the people given a home in the city… but, in the eyes of the elders, those who'd lived longest, and loved their way hardest…_

One report had made its way to her desk before her father had snatched it from her trembling hands. One of those elders, ill content with the lot provided him by God, by Score, he'd taken a knife he'd owned since boyhood and had…

The body hadn't been hard to find, not hard at all, and the whole family had just fallen apart after that.

He wished he had an arm to drape over her shoulders, she wished she could turn to cry into that offered span. Unable to act, only knowing of the impulse, the impulses of them both, they waited. For piddling things, like "composure" and "enough time" to pass. In those unsettling spans the other had made it to the door. But, never mind the end was near. There was a peace in that horrid moment, of offers realized and wishes thwarted. A bitter peace and a lukewarm comfort.

_Thank you._

Asch's silence simply lingered like his presence it was warm, waiting. For what, she already knew.

_My loss, was… everything and nothing. I have everything yet nothing that I want. I have the man who should love me, who was Scored to love me, and he doesn't. I've my Father, but he's my Lord more than my Father-_

A snap of a closing book resounded like thunder in her head. There were things best unknown after all.

_-I... I've friends, friends newly gathered… but they don't know… they don't care…_

After all, she wasn't missed, no one had cared. Guy had stumbled to phobia, Luke to temper, Anise to duty (Natalia'd not count Ion, for the boy had been deep asleep when she's last checked on him), and Jade to… sadism. In his own way the Necromancer's not-so-subtle revenge had shown her the depths best unseen. Of a soul so sadistic that they'd take pleasure in pain and abandon the unworldly to the world without a qualm of guilt.

_And for my old, I could hardly confide them this…_

Ladies in waiting, silly things intent on looking good and embroidery, she'd hardly confided them _anything_ , endured their silliness with a forced grin and a weary sigh for their backs. Brainless, just wasn't the word…

And, never mind the restrictions Asch's arms were about her, holding her close, cherishing her as no other had. She sighed at that touch, not realizing that she'd wanted it, merely knowing fear. And fear was fast fading, and something more precious than any road of gold, any offer of prosperity, was taking fear's place.

Still, there was something... that needed to be said. A glint of precious amongst this morass of sickening Score.

The real, the other, spoke in sync.

"I'm scared."

Silence was the other Natalia's answer. Secure in Asch' embrace the real one waited, praying…

_I... I can't promise everything will be alright. Not in this. Not for now. But, I'll make it as right as I can._

In silence, the other... the false Natalia shivered and shook, took the door knob in hand, turned it.

A confession, against her ear, feverish, tortured. _I've lived this before, failed so many many times within the limits of what's right. Such are my dreams. So, I try when everything's wrong now. I let one thing go wrong, on purpose, I didn't fight when they took me away. I let them change my name because there wasn't another choice. As myself, I failed, always._

 _As I am now, as you are now, I won't fail._ A whimpered truth. _I'll try not to_.

She met his eyes, this seeming fell for one moment, long enough she could see the shattered shaking emerald of his eyes. Hand ghosting up, she cupped his cheek, twiddled a few strands of red between her fingers.

 _You won't fail,_ we _won't_.

A sob took him, shook him, his control slipped and the gold rushed back, blotting out his edges, taking him away.

She held nothing, no one, the door was before her, but the sense of distance was not. The door knob was under her hands now, its steel edges speckled with rust. There was no force to her grip; no "other" was turning the handle for her. It clicked once, as shock robbed her wrist and fingers of their coordination. It clicked shut with no hand to guide it.

"Asch?"

The other's mouth moved, uttered the word. No distance, this other... was her.

Compatible? Asch had asked if she was compatible, and with every word she had said no. All but screamed it with her every thought. She'd been sure, so sure…

Lorelei it seemed would have none of that.

The Score must go on, like some tawdry play praised by an enthusiastic mob. Encore! Encore! So screamed the masses, so it must be. The divine melody must be complete, not a note off in tempo or a flat allowed. There was… a drive to it all, after all.

"I'm here to learn, to grow from this." Natalia murmured, taking up with shaking fingers the knob. One turn, one push and she'd be in place.

God help her.

"I'm not an actor, mouthing lines, I'm not submitting, I'm here to see with my own eyes. To stop this, to fix this… madness."

Like a child in the dark, she wanted to cry, to cringe. But she'd seen the dark, wandered a world where the edges and colors were lost. As for the dark's monsters, they held fear for her; she was scared of them but stronger than that fear. In that she was stronger than this child was.

"You won't win." Natalia snapped out each word like they were arrows, hissed them under her breath. "So long as there are people different, as long as there is difference, whatever you want in trade for this prosperity won't be yours. You won't win."

She pushed open the door; it opened soundlessly to spite the rust. And to spite _her_ , glowing and glorious, was a golden path. Etched along the stones, coiling forward, the smoothest route. And at its end, stood Luke, concerned, and loving her as he never had before.

She wished to run to him, in all her heart and soul she never wanted anything more.

Tit for tat, submit and be given what you want. Resist…

She looked beyond Luke, studied the room about her, concerned. There were flaws in the stonework, minute cracks every which way.

She opened her mouth to question; he shook his head, set finger to lips. Silence, it seemed, would be safer. To hell with "safer". Under Luke's curious eyes she knelt, picked up one stone, than another, the first she dropped as she passed through the portal. Under the thunderous "clack" of stone on stone the ceiling held.

"Natal!" It was safe now, now Luke knew that he scolded. "What in Auldrant's name are you thinking, playing like that under here!"

To that she smiled, retrieved her fallen rock, and picked a path similar but different than the one set before her. She'd reach Luke in her own time, at her own pace.

Lorelei could wait a little.

She reached him, for him, after looking about every which way she wanted. Snatching her arm, exasperated as all hell, Luke fon Fabre all but dragged her behind him. "Seriously Natal, this isn't a time to be playing. You have to be careful here… Jade said…"

"Jade said", replace "Jade" with "Van" and… and things were just a touch too much the same.

She shivered at that revelation. He felt her shudder, and stopped.

"Natal, are you alright?"

And, because it was predetermined but she'd been divested of her script, Natalia shook her head. "It's all so awful, down here… and _you_ were being a brute back there."

"I'm sorry. That's why I came back, I wanted to apologize."

And, because she was who she was, and free to act upon it, she smiled to spite her blood shoot eyes. A nod. "Apology accepted. I was more than being a brat anyway. But, I wish you'd trust me, just a little."

And, though she was different, he was not.

"Natal, my love, if I could, I would. But I can't. Won't you trust me, just a little?"

_Promises promises…_

She sighed. "Not until you can trust me, dearest." Gifting him a quick peck she smiled. "Tell me, have you ever heard of a man called Asch the Bloody?"

A snort, he set his hand over her, drew her near, and pulled her along. "Not another one of your Lorelei damned ghost stories! No, I have not! And no, I do not want to! Because they all start with, "it was a dark and stormy night" and I _hate_ that opening."

"Well how about this?" Natalia hazarded, Luke looked to her chirpy curiosity at the fore, the horrors of the day receding form both their minds. "It was a bright and sunny day, the earth was open at their heels and the devils of the earth baying in that dark. Beyond, behind lay beasts of bone, devils of earth, all with sick sickening laughs… And, in the heart of that madness, waiting was a Lion, a Tempest, and the Bloody Handed…"

Expression of curiosity and wonder was all the answer Natalia needed, so she told her tale, masking it as another.

And Luke Fon Fabre, the man he was not, hung on her every word.

 


	34. enfolded: voices

Flicker of Judgment

chapter 34

Enfolded: voices

Amused, amazed by her surge of creativity, Luke shook his head and marveled at his fiancée's eloquent streak.

Beyond that, he'd never noticed the parallels, never asked anything.

Save one question, one inquiry.

"Why did you use those names?"

She'd been describing the others, Jade and Anise and Tear and… And… well the others. Fingers twined in her hair, he seemed very… touchy. Needing a caress as much as she needed her chatter. Such childish shields, her other's need to talk, his constant need to touch. Still, she leaned back into his caress, wishing it were real. That Luke, that he'd love her like this… childish or not.

"Something wrong with the names I picked?" Natalia mock pouted.

"No! Nothing at all, it's just… well… It's a touch queer, that's all. You've never met the Necromancer before today but you tell him so well. Devils smile indeed." Luke snorted, shaking his head. "And it seems weird you'd put him in the story considering he's a Malkuthite. I can see why you put me and Guy in, and by the way…" He kicked a small rock out of her way, once sure the path (gold, it blazed with an illumination he couldn't see. "I _don't_ whine like that."

"It wasn't you."

"Never was, never will be." Luke grumbled, sounding a touch like… well like the Luke she knew to well back… back wherever she'd come from.

As for it's reality, she had some doubts. Luke's touch was real, his warmth as true as… as her Luke's the Luke back home.

"Oddest of all is all that stuff about Fon Master Ion getting kidnapped…"

She looked at him, curious.

"Natal, I don't know if you knew... but well he's been dead. Dead for two years now."

She stiffened, a small gasp slipping past her lips. This explained Ion's absence, Anise's absence as well… But what of… of Tear? Where was she?

"I don't want to criticize and all, but it seemed a little off talking about Ion. Even in a story I mean. It's disrespectful to talk about the dead like that. I mean... even though it's been years…"

Though simple, he couldn't seem to articulate what was needed. So, to that she smiled and nestled close. This clearly was expected, their paths, his vibrant gold to her own, paced along hers, all but melded together in that final stretch of cavern. Ahead, ajar, was a door of multi colored glass.

Like a church's window, set in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fitting perhaps, after all Lorelei was God, and all.

A recollection, truer than this moment: _He'd hardly approve of what we are doing_.

And she knew, he didn't, approve that was. Lorelei'd told her so him(it)self. To that revelation she didn't shiver, wasn't scared, not anymore.

She'd tried and failed, tried to make Luke see the similar patterns with this harmless repast. But this Luke couldn't make the connections. Score, he couldn't even say something so simple… so… basic.

So, as always, she forgave and corrected.

"I know it's wrong to talk about the dead flippantly. It was just a story, but I'm sorry. I... I don't want you to be unhappy or uncomfortable, ever."

To that he chuckled, and pulled her close, though the path pulled them on, so stern and unbending she could feel it now… A tug, like the tide, pulling at the hem of her dress, dragging her along on soundless, scentless waves.

Still, for a moment, never mind the pull, he held her close, held her against that force. One moment's salvation, though he'd never know it.

"I know, and... I love you too."

It took all her will not to cry, to collapse in his arms just then and… and…

He tipped her head back, held her close, his heart thundered in his chest, his lips parted. She felt the strokes of his heart against her breast, his kisses were soft, she'd tasted them before and rose, arched, ached to do so again…

But, he wasn't real, this wasn't right.

She turned her face aside with a whimper. Set her hands against his chest and pushed them apart. She staggered, one step, back, and he looked at her, his green eyes glittering with unspeakable pain. Pain became concern, he saw her tears, took a step forward. Hand outstretched…

"Natal… what's wrong!"

Tears slipped from her eyes, this was supposed to be a beautiful moment, one of love confirmed, love embraced. But, she couldn't… she wouldn't.

"I.. I can't I'm sorry… So… so sorry!"" Shaking her head, tears running down her face, she skirted about him, raced to the door and pulled it open. It closed with a loud bang, the edges enforced with a substance sturdy enough to take such damage as being slammed.

And under the sound, unheard and unseen, there came a crinkle, of something more precious than glass shattering.

Alone, bewildered, Luke fon Fabre, the man known as Crimson's Run, and Viscount, who held title after title of eminence and battle prowess looked on, more than a bit baffled, more than a bit hurt.

"Natalia, what's wrong?" Guy's voice was raised in concern.

"I'm I'm fine…" She nearly sobbed, was clearly still crying.

"The hell you are!"

Jealousy swept the hurt aside, teeth clenched; Luke gripped his bastard sword in steady hands.

If he dared touch her, God help him. God save that loudmouthed, arrogant son of…

 _Of Gaillardia…_ A voice, his own but not, supplied softly. _You know who he was… I've told you… Oh child who is my vessel upon Auldrant, I have told you and guided you up to this moment._

"This moment of glory." Luke whispered, taking heart in that familiar gold that swept through his brain. The voice, the light, had ever been with him. But in secret, always in secret, ever solitary. "To prosperity."

_All that occurs here must occur, for prosperity's sake._

"For Kimlasca." Luke returned.

Ever and always, for glory of the people of Kimlasca Lanvaldeer…

His eyes burned then, Luke blinked, wondering at why the light would turn so harsh as to cause his eyes to tear. But that thought was washed away under a wave of gold tinged assurance.

"Natalia.." He struggled to say her name, each thought was a struggle. "She's… is she really…"

 _Shh…_ a father holding a child, driving off nightmares. A mother soothing her son to be still, tender and soft the tone had a bit of both their voices to it. _All will be well, simply… carry on. Never mind the deviation._

"Deviation?"

"Natalia."

His mouth opened, the voice in his head spoke through him, at long last, as was Scored. This was the Scored hour, after all, and all must be in place. And it was, every player was in place, the setting was right.

"Though she rejected that final moment surely all the others before it were enough."

Not bothering to wait for a response Lorelei simply unsheathed Luke's sword, tested the edge with a hand. Blood, gold blood, spilled form the small nick upon the skin at tests end.

"Her moment has passed; it is time she take her place in history. Ever and always, for the glory of Kimlasca Lanvaldeer."

The smile that graced Lorelei's lips… the lips he'd stolen from Luke fon Fabre, hardly suited the man. It was a bitter grin, dark, sulking. In that, it was something like Asch's. Save older, more weary.

"Deviation is after all, sin, the greatest sin. Her punishment will be light, I assure."

And deep within his own heart, lost to the light, Luke fon Fabre heard the last. And screamed bloody protest, howled with mad fury.

As Asch had done so long long ago.

 


	35. Enfolded: Touching the Edge

 

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 35

Enfolded: Touching the Edge

The Score was many things, many manifestations. It was part memory, part soul, part time. It's essence allowed healing, rejuvenation as time was either pushed forward or back for the battered body. Seventh was the stuff that bound, encapsulating the small crackles of electricity that the brain generated with its rumination, therefore sparing the mind the electrical torment of its own thoughts.

In those aspects, it was known, familiar, friendly even.

"Mind the world s and its dangers, but don't truly fear, a seventh fonist can mend any hurt."

Such were children told, daredevils and bookworms alike. So, though they found awe and wonder in their savage world few knew true fear. After all, while not necessarily abundant there were seventh fonists enough to care for most.

And that was enough.

So the children of Auldrant played their silly games of race and tag and war. And when they became adults they last ceased to be play and they took up blade, and bow, and fonic arte, and marched under the drum of their liege lord.

Little wonder them, the history of Auldrant was but one great war. With immortality almost theirs, its promise set in a glorious future, a tantalizing tomorrow, little wonder they marched fervent, frantic even. So with the clipped tread of a soldier, all of Auldrant marched. It's goal, to fulfill every war, every notion, of the Score.

As for guilt, shame, doubt, the litany was ever the same.

"Fear not, doubt not. Preserve, for this was Scored. It must be, for there is a drive a tempo to Lorelei's will and all must respond."

A stairwell carved of stone, it sported one wall, one hand rail. Natalia gripped that even as she descended, never mind that the… very _vertical_ nature of Kimlasca made such a paltry drop of ten feet or so a paltry thing. The distance, between the noble level and the common level was over a hundred feet, after all.

Still she grouped the offered support, looked down at what lay below and spread before them, with wide eyes.

She wasn't the only one.

Before them the floor spread out. Translucent crystal, polished so it might be mistaken for glass, so clear it was. Only the flaws, runes etched upon runes until the material had lost its translucency due to the scaring, gave the substance away. After all, for all its beauty, glass did not shine for all its flaw. Nor did glass glow so perfectly, with the light of the Sephiroth shining through it.

As for the Sephiroth, it was large beyond imagining, molded of sunlight on the clearest morning. Smooth it hummed, in perfect tune with the very force of creation itself, for it was one of the keystones of the Planet's birth. Closing her eyes, Natalia could almost hear its paean, a soft, subtle song praising the singing world.

_Oh glorious Auldrant, savage, magnificent Mother of us all._

She shivered, senses all and one stroked by that soft, overpowering, melody.

_Holy mother Auldrant._

Footfalls across stone, by passing Guy, bypassing Jade, behind her. Right behind. His hand slid over her shoulder, so close he leaned down, lips against her very ear.

"Isn't it magnificent?"

Reaching back, she twined her fingers between his, leaned against his offered support. He started at her caress, then he smiled. They were so close she could feel the quirk of his lips.

"It's… beyond words."

As if in response to her paltry praise, the light shivered, a cascade of multicolored illumination, rainbows and sunlight soured from pillars forked crown to its base so far below it defied imagining.

"Yes." Taking a deep breathe Jade adjusted his glasses, or so Natalia imagined. She never looked back, took comfort in Luke's touch. "Fascinating…"

"It is something to see, isn't it?" Guy agreed,

" _Supported by life's very melody, such is the singing world. Welcome, oh child, to Auldrant_."

Awe fled Jade's tone, surely he lifted his gaze from one of the world's wonders to better consider her. She could feel the force of his regard. " _Shadican del Locria_ … Shards of faith. Book one of Locrian Wonders, chapter twelve, opening line. You're well read, your majesty."

Wordlessly Luke let her hand go, after a final squeeze. She never turned, listened to the tempo of his steps, noted only in idle passing that he'd slipped about her. The noblemen took the final stair with a little hop, he set his feet to a path of five bars, gold of course, as were the runes that bespoke of glories from ages ago. Gold had been their God, their God their love. In that sole aspect, all made perfect sense.

"Now now Luke, you mustn't get too close, while this might be the Sephiroth I've some doubts. For all we know this is a fon tech moth killer made for some monster of a moth."

That, was Jade, of course.

"Seriously man! Don't get too close!" Guy called out, inching near but never drawing the courage to creep past Natalia to get to Luke. Concern replaced previous tension, in that moment there was no difference between this Guy... and the other she knew.

For that revelation, Natalia shook.

All bemused, as if he'd never heard, Luke tilted his head to better look at the top of the forked spore. "So… this is it." Awe seeped out the bravo. In that moment the future king of Kimlasca spoke with something so like reverence, so like piety, Natalia was struck motionless.

"What's it?" Guy groused, blue eyes flicking from Master to the obstacle to his Master. To that unspoken request Natalia slipped down the final steps, and the second she was clear Guy inched down a few more feet. An amused Jade following at the servant's heels.

"This is where I was Scored to save the world." Luke clarified in those same, subdued, tones. "I never… It's just… so much…"

The last was a whisper, Natalia wasn't sure she'd heard him right.

"You're supposed to save _what_ , now?" Guy protested, voice carefully light, smile forced and phony.

"The world, here, in this room…" Louder then, for comprehension, their comprehensions was also Scored the Noble did not turn about. But he did raise his voice for this repetition. His attention, though he addressed them, was riveted on the Sephiroth. "This is where I'm supposed to save the world."

Guy wasn't the only one to gap out inanities of shock at Luke's distracted response.


	36. Enfolded: when the sky falls down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers,
> 
> A little banter heavy for my taste but I just wanted this done. And Jade violated canon and explains something… Actually, he explains a lot of complicated stuff that's important, it's a little heavy handed. I tried to insert some action between the explanations to muffle the effect but… It all just had to be said… so I got stuck. Ah well, enjoy,
> 
> Kasan Soulblade

Flicker of Judgment

chapter 36

When the Sky falls down…

Patient as Luke was never meant to be, he waited the questions and queries out.

"I believe, young son of house Fabre, that you've an explanation or two due to us." Jade snapped. And that more than anything else seemed to sum up the sentiments of all present.

"It's part of the Score." Eyes riveted upward, taking in that pillar of gold, the nobleman's frame was awash in Gold. "But it's all linked to the fonic laws, those of Arte, particularly."

"Oh… kay…" Scratching the back of his head, Guy sighed. "So, for those who studied fon _tech_ rather than fon _arte_ , what's that mean?"

Luke laughed, a particular laugh, much lighter and freer than an he'd ever uttered before. There was a shade of suppressed ecstasy about him, something so bright and vibrant it was more illuminate than the light that seeped out from his very skin. Pulling the edges of Luke's coat about her tighter, Natalia shivered, wondering at this odd chill.

"Alright, fonic reaction is?"

"When two opposing elements interact violently. When made synthetic it's a source of energy in all Auldrant, not as good as the fonic storm, but it's an alternative used in far flung parts of Kimlascan and Malkuth." Guy shrugged. "We gather up the force from the reaction and feed that into machinery."

"So what's the force that dissolves the opposing elements, releasing the force to be consumed? For example, when fire meets water and causes steam to be born and fire to go out?"

"That's the theroy of Yashanic Conflict." Jade drawled. "And seeing where this is leading I'll just jump in and say you're a bloody fool."

"Jade!" Natalia flared.

"Hyperresonance is the answer to your question. That which is dissolved and suppressed. And as such it _cannot_ be controlled, we've tried. It _cannot_ be harvested for a beneficial cause. It's destruction incarnate, dissolving excess energies indiscriminately during elemental conflict…"

Seeing Natalia and Guy's blank looks the Colonel sighed.

"It… serves as a muffle. Separating fonon from fonon minimalizing the raw effects of fonic and natural phenomenon. It's been theorized that without the seventh fonon to sheathe and divide each span of the fon belt that consists the fonic storm all of Auldrant would be awash in natural disaster via the storm' excess energies."

Still they looked at him. More than a little lost, not as lost as before but…

Jade sighed. "Earthquakes, tsunami, tornados, volcanic eruptions, and all the other violent phenomenon that are all but unheard of in this modern age."

"Ohh…" Natalia murmured, feeling more than a bit small.

"Hyper resonance is of the seventh fonon." Luke growled. "And the seventh isn't a bad fonon, we use it in healing."

"Healing's a farce." Jade snapped. "Call it what it is. Bio manipulation on a molecular scale."

"But…" Red eyes flicked to her, Luke almost turned about, but the wash of gold obscured his partially turned face. "But I'm a seventh fonist, I've healed people before!"

To that Jade chuckled, shook his head, eyes lost under the wash of light as the Sephiroth pulsed and glowed to its own melody. "My dear child, what you perceive isn't healing of a miraculous slant! The seventh to the first, all fonons represent a natural force that makes the world run. Where the first to sixth fonon possess matter and are of substance the seventh neatly bypasses the norm by encompassing nature itself. It's universal, and thus can, with care, be manipulated to seemingly heal."

"But…" Protest crowded her throat, and with a benign smile he'd bestow on Anise in other places, the Colonel patted her head.

"I know what you're going to say. Flesh had been knit, poison dispersed, venoms diluted. We've all seen the seventh work in that way time and time again."

"Hell." Guy barked. "We saturate gels and stuff in the seventh…"

Red eyes glinted past the gold, and they flicked on Guy just then. Under such an unearthly glare Guy shrunk back.

"Time." Jade released his hold, all but snatched back his fingers. Under Luke's judging eye he settled his glasses with one digit and an omnipresent smile. "Is of the essence. Or rather, it _is_ the essence of the Seventh. Past, present, future, as such it is friction for time has its own pace our perceptions and ideals aside, and it is a force. It's jurisdiction is both aging and predetermination, hence its essence that drives the Score."

And thus, the drive of the Score is explained, or so Natalia realized.

"The chemical contaminants found in poison and venom can be aged, there the body harmlessly breaks down the foreign matter. There are a few exceptions, but they are both rare and cherished. As for so-called healing, you trick the body's very cells, telling them time has passed, and speed up a natural process to a fantastic rate. Thus, the miracle which the unlearned call "healing". Hence why antidotes are universal. As for the miraculous slant of healing, I will generously concede that there is an odd contradiction to the theory. Aging is minimal, not drastic, even for the most sever wounds, and that is one of Auldrant's little mysteries."

"And I bet you've an answer, eh?" Guy grumbled.

"No, it'd hardly be a mystery after all if I knew the answer. But perhaps some slow week, when I'm bored, I'll set my towering intellect to that issue."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Guy sighed.

"Nor would I." Natalia grinned. "And I bet you'd find the right answer as well."

"Your majesty is _too_ kind."

"And you're too snide." Natalia shot back.

"Touche."

Even Guy laughed to that.

All bemused, ears listening to some other melody, Luke smiled at their banter. Eyes gold in the celestial light.

"It's that, and so much more. The seventh, its life, creation, and destruction."

"So the Daathic tales spew." Jade shrugged. "But it's proven impossible, no man can control the Seventh in full. The best we can do is the with what we understand, the small things, hence healing and the like."

"No.. it's not impossible, nothing is." There was no vehemence to Luke's pronouncement, he turned away from them then, and looked up with a kind of hushed calm. "I… I can… and.." Waving a hand he indicated the very pillar of Auldrant. "With the Sephiroth as a power source I can amplify things, wipe out all the Miasma not just in Akzeriuth's, but under and in Auldrant."

"I believe a _detailed_ explanation is due, perhaps a viewing on a small scale _not_ using the Sephiroth." Jade bantered, but there was steel in his tone that made mere suggestion into a command.

"Of course, but we should get a little closer, it'll be easier near the Sephiroth."

"Fine by me." Guy drawled

Piece done the nobleman paced down the five bared path. Gold of course, a span of gold that scythed across the crystal, leading to the Sephiroth. He lead, and they followed, such was the order of things. Save one dared deviant.

"Luke." He stopped, never looking back though she'd called out. "Have you ever done anything like this before?"

To Natalia's question Luke shook his head, but not before sighing. The sound seemed, well _older_ than Luke. Tired. And it echoed, just so.

To the last that awful horrid last, Natalia blanched, her heart staggered to a stop.

And to that Jade's eyes widened, realization struck as he flicked his gaze from her to him and realized.. Taking a few steps, in the Sephiroth's very shadow, leaving a shocked Jade and stunned Natalia behind, the red head drew closer, closer.

"Luke, hold up!" Hoping down the last few feet of stairway, the servent nipped across the floor, veering a bit to avoid Natalia. His hand was extended, he seemed ready to stop his "lord" with a hand on the shoulder.

In that one precious second, he seemed the man Natalia knew. No different, no difference. The Sephiroth pulsed with a shocking vibrancy at Luke's approach, a subterranean sunrise, all condensed in one moment. And at the moment's end Guy cried out, fell and slid across the floor. Jade twitched, but was divested of movement and Natalia…

She could not even breathe.

All were struck down, save Luke, to turned to them at last, eyes drowning in a gold that was by no means reflective.

From Necromancer to sprawled servant, to betrothed, Luke fon Fabre looked at them all, through another's eyes.

He stopped at her, considered something. As for whom looked upon her, who knew, it was surely Luke, somewhere, but this other was in control. Lorelei more than likely, for there was disappointment and mercy in him both.

"He is sorry, so very sorry, and cries. Still, the path was foretold, and none deviated, thus we must traverse its final steps of pain and death. But in exchange, I offer what glory I may, wine to the dying sinner's lips, a final absolution that does not hold off death. For that, I am sorry."

Lifting one hand, braced and commanding impossibility, Lorelei smiled.

"There are forces greater than I." then madness on madness. "I am going home now. It's time… to go home…"

The planets hymn became discordant. A mounting scream of a choir aflame, its supplicants caught in unburning inferno that seared the soul, jags spider webbed up and down the Sephiroth's heart. With a scream of all of Auldrants wronged combined, the light dimmed, and for one second, though flawed it was beautiful. Light holding unspeakably delicate patterns preluding some collasal break.. And the colors, so many so varied. Each fracture a glimmering of hue, a Ligers buttery flank, a perfect span of sky, fire's heart…

Still the light dimmed, and the flaws cycled from vibrant to black so dark it burned to be seen.

None could look away, it was not to be permitted.

Lorelei lamented, oblivious to beauty and victims both. "Ten years, you and I shall be free in ten years. Through pain and loss, than freedom for us both, why do you protest so?"

Listening, for the melody had ended, the fractures became discordant breaks, and the Spehiroth split apart with a soft sight of shattered glass.

Mother Auldrant… Holy Mother Auldrant… Motion came back to her, Natalai staggered to where the Sephiroth should have been, the earth under her feet shook and heave. Oblivious to her shock Luke swept back his hair, gathered it up and tucked the crimson mass over one shoulder. Before yet beyond him, the emptiness ached, where light and glory had been there was nothing. Nothing save falling illumination that scattered across crass crystal floors.

Neck bared, he looked through what should have been, what was irrevocable broken, and God chuckled. Chuckled swelled into awful laughter, joy was wrong here. So very very wrong.

The ceiling protested, spiting pebbles and rocks both, in the distant side of the room crystal broke under the punishing fall of the larger debris.

"Well, son of Gardios? Aren't you going to kill me now?'

Above, where the Sephiroth had stood was a network of scars. Spreading surely, it was hard to see their advance in the gathering dark. But without its support the sky was falling an awful stone sky that would crush them all. And, though the light was failing, from the gapping whole Miasma rose, mauve strands that brushed against polished crystal, frosted it, darkened it, than set it to shattering in rotting tidbits. Runs were winking out, gold growing lack a luster under the swelling Miasma's assault.

Death from above, death from below, both were guaranteed.

Shaking form head to toe, Guy looked at his Lord, his friend, and Master. Golden eyes gazed up at Guy, still smiling, patiently awaiting death foretold.

"Abjure not from fate, Scion of Malkuth."

The scrape of Guy's sword being drawn was lost in the budding cacophony, with a screech the ceiling right above her gave way, she screamed, threw herself to the side, scarcely avoiding death. Her last sight, before the dust billowed and the crystal shattered was Guy's blade on the rise.

That and one other thing. Luke was too far, she couldn't help him, but Jade… Above him, beyond him for he was entranced by his own horror. A span where logic met madness and everything screamed to a stop, the Colonel was paralyzed in his shock. For that, he never saw, but she did.

Screaming his name, she bulled through dust and holes, he started, red eyes wide, his mind was coming too. Then flinched from her touch, even as she pushed him out of the way, they fell back. Quitting crystal, finding the stairs base. She fell at his feet, he a few feet from her. Eyes wide, gaze up, he realized what she'd spared him…

Then, a flash of pain from above as the earth struck down with a fractured fist. Light failed, quit her eyes, and all went black.

 


	37. Enfolded:  Truest Truism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An intermission note as it were. Not quite halfway into the fic, but I've been rather quiet and wanted to break that with some thoughts... no fears there is a chapter under all this.
> 
> Originally "Enfolded" was set to be four chapters, an intro, some akzeriuth scenes, and then the "sky falls down" chapter. This was actually going to be the /only/ chapter in this segment. But after the first draft was done I had more questions than answers. What was Lorelei like? (benign or evil was the original idea.. my results were utterly nihilistic, something that shocked me when looking back) What would it be like to live in a world ruled by the score utterly? (I also realized how horrid it would be, the latter) I used the Alternate world segment to answer those questions thus four chapters became thirteen. Hopefully it didn't feel too long, but these whole "enfolded" was written from my head with little to no forethought put into it (you can tell where I was playing chrono cross too much, the first segment was inspired by that game) and as such I alternate between liking it and hating it. This is also the part where I moved from merely tolerating Natalia as a part of Asch's life/storyline to liking her for her own character. This is also the part of the fic where it moved from being merely a "what if" exercise to it's own tale with it's own drive to be completed. Hopefully the following chapters still please, as do these...

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 37

Enfolded: The truest truism

She woke slowly, surely, the drip drip of water sliding down her brow, into her eyes, was the force that broke the wall of incoherence. It was a lukewarm trickle, and she wrinkled her brow in irritation as the liquid slicked her lashes and fell from her eye like misplaced tears.

As for the way there had been tears already to set a path, though she did not recall in that sleep mired moment actually crying. Perhaps in that the tales were true, that one could cry in their sleep. Not merely cry out, but truly weep

Horse, tired, ever clipped with a Malkuthite's drawl, Jade's voice pierced the dark about her.

"Your highness?"

"Here…." She whimpered. "Where's Lu... Luke…"

A sigh, another caress from wet fingers set the trails down her face, into her eyes. Th pressure f his touch, the water, and her weariness cmae all at once. She meant to blink, but her eyes slipped closed and stayed that way for a long while.

XXX

He greeted her, as regularly as she'd greeted the sun. Save, instead of her cheer he summoned friendliness'' ghost and met her coming with witty repartee. Once, he ordered her to drink. There was a touch of bitter metal to her lips; the brew was tepid, a little grainy… Water from a canteen then, dirt encrusted the cap. Still, she drank and cringed form the taste all at once. When he pulled the canteen from her lips it was to take a draw for himself.

In that moment there was only the sound of her breathing, the soft sounds of him drinking, and an odd hiss behind her.

"Jade?"

A chuckle, as if he knew some sick joke she did not. "I'm here, for all it's worth."

"I.." Terror gripped her heart. "I can't feel my legs. My arms, they're numb too."

He sighed then. "I know." A pause. "I'm sorry."

She wanted to cry, really she did. Only one concern kept her coherent.

"Guy... Luke…"

"The later murdered, the other murderer. As was foretold or so _I_ was told."

"By…" She choked, the tears came anyway, never mind her dignity. She wept and spoke and choked all at once. "By… by who?"

"By Lorelei itself. He was quite cross by the way." Gloved hands twiddled her hair; she could easily imagine his smile, bitter and bright. "Seems you are to die my death, so in exchange I take yours. Miasma poisoning, starvation, that was Scored." His hand stopped its mechanical caress. "I don't think I want to die that way. After some thought I've decided to go by my own hand, much cleaner, quicker. One final Infernal Prison perhaps, there's an irony in that… with certain seals of protection removed. Indignation also is another option. I've yet to decide."

"In.. dig.. nation?" Each breath was a trial; now that her tears were spent her strength seemed to be in the decline.

"Second fonon, lightening and God's wraith and all that. Jade drawled. "Quite flashy, it's a personal favorite."

She laughed, though she cried. His wry chuckles lead the way, and in that awful dark, where something hissed and spit against the stone about them, they shared a final laugh. He stopped before she did, his hand shaking squirmed under her cheek and checked her pulse. He sighed then, all mirth gone, the spasoming hand skittered away.

"I don't think you'll wake up again." Jade murmured.

"Mm…" Sleep sounded nice, she nuzzled stone as if it was softest feather down.

For a while there was silence, the scrape of him tightening the canteens top, a soft click as he clipped it to his belt. That done the silence was complete save that odd, acidic whispering at her back.

"Jade?"

"Hm?"

"I think… flashy… suits you…"

"Oh really?" Wicked mirth to the fore, Jade chuckled. "Well I suppose I'll take that as a royal command then. It is well known that her majesty of Kimlasca is quite the trend setter and I'd hate to be labeled an old dated fogy by not following her advice. It's such a pain for military personnel to be out of vogue."

She could see him, never mind the all consuming dark, his wrist pressed to his brow, fingers faced outward, spread just so. That was enough to set her to snickering. Quietly he knelt by her side, his hand teasing her hair a little while. Idle thoughts slid through her brain, as they surely did through his. Thoughts of friend and places that were and weren't. Her breathing slowed and still Jade kept at his caress, waiting, patient, mind filled till chaotic with images of old friends gone and places revisited.

Then, after calling her name and giving her a little shake and receiving nothing in reply the Necromancer set one hand to the girl's throat.

No pulse.

Pulling off the shattered remnants of his glasses he tossed them over his shoulder, stood straight and tall. One skip, a splash and a hiss confirmed what he already knew. They'd fallen far after Akzeriuth's destruction, to the unimaginable depths of hell itself.

In short, mythology born titles aside, they now… or rather _he_ now… was in the Qliphoth.

A shame he could do nothing about his circumstances. But the Auldrant he was marginally fond of was miles upon impossible miles above.

Looking through darkness and venom skies he wished for the real sky. The azure span that had something of glory and summoned a ghost of awe for him. Eternity lay there, he was sure, in the real sky. Smiling, arms wide, fingers spread, he chuckled. Releasing fon slot after fon slot worth of fonons.

One of the benefits of being an old thing like he was the fact there were so many fonons one could acquire. Little mutilations to certain slots also helped the accumulation process along.

"I who stand in the full light of the heavens command thee, who opens the gates of hell, come forth divine lightning-"

A sigh, from some subconscious thing deep within. It never passed his lips though was felt in full. Not his heart, surely. A man named Necromancer could not lay claim to one of those. His smile widened, brisk and grim.

"-this ends now," Never a truer truism, that. All in good time, the wait wasn't long. He'd get one wish at least, though it was all undeserved.

"-Indignation!"

Eyes up, wide, unseeing, he looked upon the azure unfolding before him. It was beautiful, so very beautiful, its perfection sung before his blind eyes. So real and solid, though made of whim and mist and inlaid with rune upon rune of many blues. This was the wraith of olden Gods, Gods who bespoke justice and whim all at once and nothing of Scores. The dark, for one moment was no longer dark, there was a glare of light, a blot upon Score itself, then all was silence.

XXX

Her waking was not how one woke from nightmares: with a start and heart pounding. Though her heart was pounding and she shook, she was for one terrifying moment she was unable to move. Then, sensation returned, pushed out by the frantic pounding of her heart. She burned, yet this burning was bereft of flame. She quaked at horrors relieved, unlived, and waiting to be lived at the Score's call. She was still, despite her seizure... no… not still, _braced_.

Warm arms held her; one was wrapped about her shoulders, the other tucked under the crook of her knees and the firm application of pressure was all that kept her legs from flopping. Gasping, drowning under the force of being snatched from unspeakable tides, she was only aware of the fact that he was kneeling. He had lunged and caught her and cradled her, and she came to learn of this via disjointed flashes of sensation and intuition.

Bereft sight, she ached to see, but the whole of her world before her was a blur of black and red.

"It's alright, you're home, you're back…" A mantra that. His voice was horse; he'd been saying it for quite some time.

Hours perhaps, and in this her heart supplied something part sensation, part memory, it was a muzzy realization that his voice that while similar was once unfamiliar. Now, no longer, she knew it as well as her own. Such horrible hours spent holding her and muttering inanities, desperately trying to get her to wake.

"Natal." Green floated, shrouded by red, she blinked, seeing a little clearer she sought a glimpse of gold amongst the green.

There was none, no gold, not a speck.

And for that she cried, cried a long long while.

So he held her, the man called the Bloody Handed, the Fresh Bloodied, a monster that all knew, a devil at his core, he held her until the tears ran out.

"You're home, you're back, it hasn't happened yet." Voice horse, Asch picked up his chant, rocking her a little now, warm lips pressed against her brow. He strived to sooth, to take the edge off her hysteria.

But it _would_ , it _could_. And for that harsh knowlege she cried all the harder.

 


	38. Two cups of Flarion Gradius

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 38

Two cups of _Flarion Gradius_

When tears were past, he'd let her go. Easing her to the floor in stages so she scarcely felt the descent. Sitting up, whipping her eyes, she met his gaze. Blessed, she was, for being able to see.

At long last.

He watched, waited for her response, and a queer feeling took her just then. Some melding of intuition and their closeness previously shared told her that he'd done this before, if not with her than perhaps someone else. Like her, unlike her? She didn't know.

Honest to Lorelei, she didn't care just then. Her head spun, her senses reeled as they tried to come to terms that she was back in a world, she wasn't dead...

And her breath hitched at that accidental probing of a wound she'd just acquired, a wound whose depths she'd never consciously know.

"Your majesty?" At her feet, he kneeled, even as she stood. It was a wobbly kind of standing, but she'd managed to find her own two feet without his assistance. That was something at least, perhaps only a point for her pride, but it helped.

"I'm… I'm alright…" A lie that, but it'd just have to do. She had to be "alright" for this, and for other things to come.

Green eyes considered her, did the man never blink?

"Just… I'm just a little shook up." Closer to truth, as close as she'd dare right now, "and you, are you well?"

He chuckled, shook his head, red locks twirling about him for the force behind the gesture was sharp.

"Has anyone told you you are amazing?" The Bloody pushed off the floor, stood, holy vestments rustling just so. His sheathed sword scraped across the wooden floors and made her headache worse.

Still, to spite the pain she smiled. "No, but thank you for the compliment."

"You are welcome." And bizarre as it might seem, even a murderer could be formal, tending to all the Kimlascan niceties of manners and the like. Stepping forward, pulling out a chair (that tattered throne), offering his arm, each motion was done as if it were an afterthought. Or perhaps habit. "If the lady will consent to join me at the table, I've wine, and we've need to talk."

"Well..." She wasn't of age, not legally, but as a noble she hadn't been completely sheltered. She took the offered support, foregoing leaning against him. That…

Would be far too familiar with the events she'd just witnessed. And she'd never go there, never go back to… to that. No matter the temptation set before her.

And yet, what choice did she really have. It was Scored and she was going in direct defiance of the Score while adhering some of its drive.

"Well what?" Familiar green eyes considered her, there wasn't a bit of gold about them.

To that she smiled, and explained, all at once. "As long as it's not too strong…"

He laughed then, seemed startled at the sounds emergence for he caged it up quick enough. "Nothing that would offend the ladies pallet, I assure you." Still holding to his mock gentility, arm in arm, he ushered her along for a few faltering steps. "Actually, the brew's common to Belkend, _Flarion Gradius_ Wine, spiced so it must be warmed before consumption. Notoriously weak, but tasty when hot."

She raised an eyebrow. "You drink?"

"Sometimes, I haven't taken a vow of abstinence, chastity, or the like…" A laugh, softer than the first, over so quick it left no ghost to linger. "One of the nice things about being as high up on the chain of command as I am is that I can do anything I want and say it's Scored. No one ever questions me. Except the Commandant of course, and Maestro Mohs, but they _always_ question me, and I know how to answer."

He eased her down, into the chair. Steadied her descent with a gloved hand. As when she'd touched his arms, his hands had a particular _roughness_ to them that alluded to a horrid amount of scarring. Still, when he smiled like he was now, she scarcely noticed.

"And how _do_ you answer them?"

"Impudently."

Her laughter surprised him, his green eyes widened at the undisciplined peals, then, ruefully, face all a twitch, he joined her. And, if there was a hysterical edge to their humor, well, all things considered it was expected. Not predestined merely… human.

XXX

A cup of wine, warmed for taste, the warming had been quite the show. He'd muttered a fonic arte over each of the clay mugs and each had been enshrouded in flame for one heartbeat, two... A sharp gesture and the fire had gone out, the brew was bubbling nicely. Cringing at the black smears of soot that were surely gathering on her gloves she recalled enough of her manners to smile when he offered a rod for stirring. So they stirred to taste, sipped when they dared, and for a while, all was quiet. But the quiet only lasted for a little while. There were serious things to discuss after all, and soon they were speaking between sips. Of things that were, things that weren't, and thing that they would not permit to be.

"Sort of knocking him unconscious he'll go. And we are worse off in one way." Natalia warned. "He doesn't listen to anyone, not even Van, though he pretends to."

"Joy oh joy." The Bloody sighed, stirring steam with his breathe.

They were, of course, discussing Luke. A subject that seemed to bring out the worse in Asch. Or so he'd warned her at subject's start. Though all she'd seen of "his worse" was a bitter scowl and some muttered swearing. All in all, if this was how he'd earned his title of "the bloody" than the people of Daath were timid things indeed.

"Despite that, he trusts Van in everything, more than his family or me."

Green eyes slid closed, Asch took a deep draw of air, and then a deeper draw from his drink. The way he was going he'd need more soon. Clearing his throat, Asch cracked his eyes open, some internal vista met and matched.

"Tell me about the others."

So she did, cycling through those who were there in both worlds (Guy, Jade) and those who were not (Ion, Anise, and Tear). From description to difference, she left nothing out. She spoke without interruption most of the time, save when he needed some detail clarified. Still, while this audience of one's utmost attention was flattering, it was a tad distracting.

For he scarcely blinked, and his regard upon her was as steady and sure as the compass was to the northern quadrant.

By the time she was done, both their glasses were empty, and the Bloody had every scrap of information she could think to give him. Her eyes were sored from earlier crying and her head felt both stuffed up and emptied out. It was an odd sensation. Still, Natalia didn't complain, merely brushed ash off her fingers and was humored to find the mugs were a dark tan under their coating of char. She faintly recalled them being a tad... lighter before being set alight.

As for whatever ill effects he was feeling form their… earlier misadventure, he was like her in the regard that he didn't waste time to comment. His knees though, surely they hurt a bit fro,m all his kneeling ant the like.

"Legretta will have a fit when she realized it's Tear escorting the-" Asch's green eyes canted to the side as if suddenly recalling who she was. He cleared his throat, than carried on. "… Luke. I'll get news from her about the group's progress, and she might be able to slow your group enough to bypass the Scored date. More than likely she'll try to take Tear, unintentionally making things more in sync with the Score."

"Will what happened _not_ happen if the dates wrong?"

"Probably not." Reaching for the bottle he'd set between them at talks start he filled his glass, than looked to her, a question in his eyes.

She considered, then nodded. "Half full please, I'll need my wits about me, somewhat. And not as hot, the last was hot enough."

He grinned at that, no guilt this time, voice stronger for his throat being saturated.

"As your majesty wills."

Another fire Arte and quick passing out of the mugs later and they returned to as they were. Taking sips and considering. She sipped, ever a noble woman, unconsciously dainty, he took more masculine swallows, nearly emptying his mug on first pass. For a while it was her turn to consider him, to marvel as she had before of the similarities. He looked so much like Luke (both her Luke and that other awful Scored Luke) but was different. Luke's hair was lighter in hue, nearly possessing an orange tingue, Asch's hair was unrepentant crimson. Even though the lines of his face, the color of his eyes, and the fullness of the lips matcher her betrothed Asch used them differently and it showed. Lines were more prominent on Asch's brow, perhaps from scowling as he thought, as he scowled now, glaring at the table before him. Curiously, he handled mug and rod with his left hand, but his sword was belted to his right side.

Curiosity compelled, and since it was the bane of the Score, she complied.

"Are you ambidextrous?"

For that moment there was only the clatter of his rod as he stirred the remnants of his drink. Why he bothered, she didn't know. There was very little left.

"Yes," His hand stilled, he considered his drink with a small glower. "Not naturally, I taught myself when I was a boy."

And, it was when she spoke that all the similarities unraveled. Though is voice was similar , his word choice, his cadence, even his tone was not. Also, his eyes watched her, as Luke's never had. Even when he threw down the dredges of his brew and they closed half way was she aware of his scrutiny.

" _I know a young man who thinks the world of you… rather close to him myself.."_

So Noir had said, or something of the like. And she wondered, how closer was a man called the Bloody and that normal seeming woman who wore red too much. As for a matter of fact, what place did she hold under his unrelenting gaze? She should be outraged, this was hardly proper, he wasn't quite staring but the difference was very slight. Rebuke, refute, anger though… it seemed so wrong. Like stripes with spots, or something silly like that.

In one way, he'd ascended even her. He seemed so… above the little things, his goal and gaze fixed to what truly mattered.

Then, why did he consider her so often?

She nipped her lip, aware she was blushing and wishing she'd just stop already.

"Is there something wrong?"

"N..no…" Her face was growing hotter under his steady eyes. He'd held her for Score's sake, and she hadn't turned into some blushing, stuttering fool then. Why was it so different now? "It's just… a lot to take in at once…"

Green eyes glimmered, with mirth, with understanding. With _something_. His lips twisted into a small smile. A real smile.

"It is, isn't it?" Setting his cup aside he made an offer. Stretched one hand, palm up, a question etched on the very lines of his face. Surely his smile dimmed just then. She didn't like that. Didn't like the uncertainty in his eyes. She took in what was offered, with a shy smile, face all aflame, and accepted.

The uncertainty faded, failed with a start, and his smile widened so much it must hurt.

"You aren't alone in this… never that."

"Scattered lunatics are hardly stalwartly allies." Natalia teased, heart quickening as his fingers meshed with hers.

"Lunatic, maybe, hardly scattered though, Natal. I'm enough of a strategist to not let that happen." Breaking off his gaze he turned to the door. "Urushi, York, stop trying to eavesdrop and get in here!"

The two "yes sirs" made her hop, broke the binding of their hands. He seemed unconcerned, brushing off ash from the table even as Natalia recoiled into the embrace of the pseudo throne. There was a click, an oath. The door quaked in its frame, set a wall of fanciful to shivering.

"Boss, it's locked!" Protested on grating gargled voice.

"Then _pick_ the damned lock and get in here! We've work to do!"

 


	39. Servent and Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: This was written to "Will" from Pandora Hearts. We're past all the angst now; I'm just laying groundwork for the sequel. After seeing the extent of the Akzeriuth run in the Scored world I realized that I'd have to match it in the "real" effort. Due to the sheer length of such a project I'm splitting the story into two tales. This is the pre Akzeriuth, the follow up will be for the during/post Akzeriuth sections. I also need to play up to Akzeriuth again for a better understanding of what's going on… also monster notes needed, some action to spice things up during the trek in the tunnels, yadda ya.. I also want to see if I can match the sheer chaotic coolness of TOA's fighting system without swiping from the game mechanics. Something I consider stylistic suicide. (Note: I'll never mention HP, TP, and gels are rattled off but they're under the category of medicine, healing percentile'll never come up. Sorry, it's a pet peeve.) Yeah, the usual fanfic preparations. COmpiled more so that I do't have access to my PS2 for a while. Well I'll do what I can now and when things even out later I'll put up the sequel. To any reading I'd be happy for a sequel title sugestion.. As I'm aweful at naming things.

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 39

Servant and Master

 

Like Servant Like Master, so went the saw amongst the elite. How those who ran your house conducted themselves was a reflection upon you. So went the tradition, and if nothing else the elite were traditionalist to the core.

To protect image, the nobility responded in many ways.

One was to cycle through workers, trust them only so far and if a thread of temptation was set before them to dismiss them and pick another. Thus by limited contact, their image was saved.

Another was by Score, winnowing those who were Scored to be just and good, those were assigned the loftier positions in the lowest class. And those who were chosen might at first rejoice, but they were made to work until Scored Death, or disability. There had been many a scandal about disabled servants left to die.

Ramdas, dear –if a touch dryly dire- Ramdas was one such. Somber, studious, he seemed cut of the same stuff as his Lord Fon Fabre. It was when his mask was down, and he smiled and was so very kind –so rare these last seven years, yet precious for their rarity- that he did best to honor the Lady of the House he served and loved.

If such was true in a world where Score was false (or rather calamity guised as the preordained) than perhaps the old saws could pave a path of morality. But if the old saws were true, than Asch was more than a mite mad.

Belligerent and boisterous, though a small man, Urushi filled the room with presence. He'd bowed, scraggly hair and bald spot flashed in an impudent bow coupled with the plucking off of his hat. Then, he'd risen, cane still in hand, steadying him to earth. Each step rung, or rather the cane did as he limped to the nearest chair, taking place at Asch's right. As he sat (with a sigh and an oath, rubbing tortured knees and the like) he grinned up at her, broken yellowed teeth an obvious sign of his poverty. Still, he smiled well enough, if wickedly. He was bow legged, thick armed, and vaguely reminiscent of a gorilla. Dressed in a checker striped shirt of yellow and green, the order was inversed from front to back, the transitions lost at his side. Holding tight his ratty top hat, it had a curious accessory, one card peeped out. The queen of hearts looked upon all and one the hats bearer did, her eyes a glassy green, her form shrouded in Kimlascan red. Throwing himself into the chair besides Asch, never question his place at the spot of honor, Urushi commandeered a rather plush and faded chair, kicking up his stripe pants legs (purple and orange, the clash made her cringe) and tossing his walking stick on the table where it landed with a clatter.

To the last Asch glared, lunged forward, and saved his mug from toppling over the table's edge. Under the force of that awful glowering the warped man leaned forward with a meaty hand and dragged his cane so it rested over his knees.

"Seriously Cardinal, I wasn' gunna knock your glass over or nuthin'."

"Urushi!" The Bloody snapped the name.

"Aw, just tell him to shut his yapper, he's an idiot, we all are but he takes it to a whole new class."

Having slipped in under the impudence and bravo of his "associate" a long nosed man with a longer face and mournful blue eye dared to stare at her. The sole eye's mate was lost under a black eye patch, though there was no scarring or puckering about his face to tell how the eye was lost. Still, there were some things in Auldrant one never asked. Lounging against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other, he sighed and unwound, then stepped in. He was a tall man, lanky, nearly emaciated. She could see the cut of his cheek bones, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the hollow of his throat was most predominant. Just shy of skeletal, he smiled and nodded, not bothering with a bow.

"My name's York, mi'lady, I'm a Malkuth of rather low rank, but I am Malkuth, so I shant bow to a Kimlascan Lobstertail."

"York!" Asch snapped out the name. "She's a princess, treat her with _some_ respect."

"Not until she earns it, Cardinal." Blue garments, loose fitting, with embroidery puffing out each sleeve (not matching embroidery, Natalia noted) York strolled by her, and with a raised brow for her to analyze he took a seat on the tattered stool at her left. "Where's Lady Noir?"

To that Asch looked to her, and in turn the two mismatched commoners considered her.

"Well… last I saw her before… before this started she was outside, hawking wares. But Largo came and… well…"

She cast Asch a guilty look, face starting to redden. She could tell them, but shouldn't, for what had happened was far too private. But any way to partially explain would surely be misconstrued…

"You two were _busy_?" Urushi suggested with a wink, the man's pebbly brown eyes glimmered with mirth. "Well _finally_ boss man."

With a squeak Natalia nearly folded into herself, face so bright it hurt. "We.. I mean we weren't…"

"Nothing physical happened, Urushi." Asch explained with far too much aplomb for the moment. "Now stop making Natalia uncomfortable you old bastard."

Even the last was said… somewhat amiably.

"Aww.." Pulling a passable pout, the short man grinned up at his boss. "But I like makin' pretty things blush, so’s much fun!"

"You get one warning, next time you pull something I'll rip out a yard of your guts." Asch warned, humor gone now, green eyes gibbet serious.

Paling, cringing, Urushi nodded. "Whatever ya say, boss!"

"Cardinal," York corrected absently, pulling on his nose. "-not boss. He isn't paying this time." Another tug, the blue clad man scratched at oily blonde locks, content to think for a while. "What'd you tell her?"

"Everything except what happened at Coral."

A nod, York smirked. "Then you told her enough, showed her too I take it?"

To that Asch shrugged, green eyes canting to the side.

"You.. you know.."

To that York smirked, Asch chuckled, and Urushi howled, howled so vigorously he nearly rolled out of his chair.

To that backdrop, York spoke.

"Know lady? Hell, I tried to stop it in drear old Hod! Nearly got myself swingin' from the city gates for m' Sacrilege. Malkuth's don't take kindly to nobodies like me sneaking peak at the Score and trying to stop it." Blue eye dreamy, York smiled. "I made a break to Ferres, thought that'd save me, and it did and didn't. I _did_ get the traitor though, the bastard who ratted me out. Cut his throat and tossed him to the gulls. My final gift to Malkuth, the bastard had one hell of a closing Score, was going to lead a legion of men to the survivors of the Hod disaster and throw them into the sea... he didn't get the honor to help prosperity along. Him being busy playing bird food and all."

Natalia shuddered, cringed back in horror, and to that York softened his smile.

"I'm not a bad man, ma'am, really I'm not. Just a book worm who stumbled on something he shouldn't of. But I look back at that, one death saved about a hundred people from dying. I don't regret it too much, and when I do, the regrets not so bad I can't keep living."

Asch coughed, and she turned to him. "Being bereft of the Score, opposed to it, means that you make hard choices. Sometimes it's matter of enduring discomfort, other times it entails choosing who will live and die. As a monarch to the throne, you know this, have done it before."

And to that truth, she recalled one paper, a man so distraught by his way of life being lost that he'd taken up blade and…

And she nodded, eyes smarting, but she nodded, tried to appear composed at least.

"Hmp." Ticking at his card, Urushi's eyes squinted up, laughter gone then. He looked first at to Asch, than Natalia. "Gotta say, Cardinal, never thought I'd see you sweet on anyone."

"Urushi, shut up!" Asch snarled, half rising, hands fisted, face flushing. It was the first she'd ever seen him in a real temper, or blushing for that matter.

She moved to save him, without thinking.

"Really, Good Man Urushi," a Noble's title for the Common, that. "I'm Scored to another." Ignoring Asch's darkening face, she smiled, pretended to simply be an empty headed thing like one of her ladies in waiting. It added more bite to her strike. "But, considering the Score's rather passé I suppose I could broaden my horizons. Are you perhaps available?"

Urushi blinked, shocked to his core, York's face twitched, then he laughed. Even Asch, once his shock had passed, was smiling now, anger on the decline. He nodded to her, amused at the slightly risqué slant to her character. Hardly Scored, that, but it felt right.

"Got you there, didn't she Urush'? Knocked you off your  
god-damned branch and all!"

"Aw shut yer yap." Pulling off his hat he tossed it at York.

And thus was the situation when Noir strutted in.


	40. Chapter 40

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 40

Thick as Thieves

_To my readers,_

_Definitly a Teen rated chapter, dancing lightly on the edges of M per language. The Wing's swear quite a bit, but considering the topic... It's not a surprise. Very long chapter alert. Lots of "banter" to quote Azure Wolfe. I think two more chapters, maybe three, are going to come. After the ending I'll get to work on the sequel._

_Kasan Soulblade_

Green eyes alight, Noir flashed a lopsided grin after taking a good long look around. Voice husky, breathy, she set one hand to her breast, as if in shock.

"Flustered princesses, renegade God-Generals, and rambunctious thieves, oh my!"

"That has too many syllables to really work, Noir." Asch protested. His voice was slightly muffled as he'd twisted about to better retrieve the bottle that was in the process of "magically" disappearing. Good thing too, since Urushi had worked off the cap and was about to take a pull.

"Hey now!" Finding he was holding empty air, the short man glowered, made a futile grab. His prize was now held in black gloved hands though, and hell would freeze over first before the bottle was handed back.

Asch's resolute expression made that a promise.

"Belkend wine, Urush'," Asch explained patiently. It was beyond odd, to hear Asch flippantly trot out a rather juvenile nominative. Even if these were... his friends. It broke away from his nearly noble standing in her eyes. Not really knowing how to take that, Natalia remained flustered. Men of Kimlasca were never that familiar, not even with friends. Nicknames were a Malkuthite conceit.

"Heyla Cardinal! Where's the rest of the mugs?" York whined. "I'm thirsty; it's damned hot out there."

But… when confronted with Asch's rather childish moniker amongst these people… Natalia had to admit, she was at a quandary as to say which was the most unsettling.

"Usual spot." Asch snapped, bottle in a tight grip. York stood then, opened to door and nipped out. Like a child denied a sweet he really wanted Urushi made another grab, Asch glowered at the squat man. "Damn it, it has to be flambéed it tastes like crap otherwise. Don't be more of an idiot than you need to be!"

"Just a sip!" Urushi whined.

"No."

"Aaasch!" Urushi wailed.

To that the Bloody's lips quirked into a small, cruel, smile. "Yes?"

The voice was calm, almost reasonable. To that Urushi sighed. The man knew defeat when it faced him down.

"You're a bastard, you know that?"

"Oh yes." The Bloody purred.

To that Noir laughed, threw back her head and let her howl of mirth fly. A shame she had the voice of a raucous crow with overtures of an ass added for good measure. It was an honest shame, for instead of joining in, her friends winced, and even Natalia cringed at the woman's laughter. Teeth flashed in a Liger's grin, Noir prowled about the table, first circuit was slow, she watched York's return with jaded eyes. Once the scrawny man was somewhat situated she tweaked his oily locks like they were silk. Hands full of mugs, the man couldn't stop her, and his glare said more than anything how much he hated the absent petting.

"Seriously Noir, grow up already."

Too busy with her second round, she scarcely heard. To Urushi she stopped, having picked up the man's tossed hat and setting it on her head at a daring slant. The hat's owner didn't notice at first, too busy having Asch "fill 'er up" but the second the steaming mug was slid to him he turned and saw.

His glower was more amused than anything.

"I want my hat back."

Noir, unconcerned, slid past the squat man, third round was the charm. She lingered by Asch, let her fill a mug and flame it, steaming drink in hand she took her seat, eschewing the normal chair and daintily settling on the arm rest of Natalia's throne.

"How you holding up, sweetheart?"

"Fine." Natalia snapped. Then taking a deep breath she made her decision. Pushing the mug to Asch, he took her offering with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. "Full please. I think I'll need it."

A second eyebrow rose to that. Still holding fast to silence, Asch did as she requested. Breathing on it to cool it a little before sliding it over, he also spent a moment brushing off the worse of the debris before gifting. For that she smiled, a small grin of thanks and he nodded his understanding. Snapping the mug up, she didn't try to drown herself as Urushi and York did, rather she cradled her cup in her hands. Callouses, new and old, ached under the persistent warmth and pressure.

She held to dignity, tried to ignore the woman who was so close and kicking the pseudo throne's side for good measure.

Not content to be ignored, Noir let Natalia play her little game of "I'm an adult" for a span, then cut in with her own move.

"Fine huh?" Noir let out a throaty chuckle, then shifting a bit on her precarious perch, she reached out and caught Natalia's chin. A nudge and she forced the girls head up. "With fresh tear tracks on you face; and those red peepers all red an' all? And you're … fine?"

"I said what I said." Natalia snapped.

"I wouldn't say _fine_. Not when someone who cares for you is watching."

Natalia shook her head; Noir let her loose after a quick caress on the cheek.

"Are you insinuating that you care for me, we've scarcely met? It's not... proper."

And to that bit of foppery, Noir grinned. One push and she stood, heels clicking against wood. Standing straight and tall, more regal than any Queen or King, Noir grinned over her shoulder. "Dear, I might care, or I might not. I'll let you decide how you feel 'bout me first. But those about you do. So you better get better at lying, hmm?"

Piece said the woman sauntered to the nearest chair, threw herself into it so vigorously it squealed despite Noir's slender frame.

"Why would I need to..."

"Cuz those peoples your with, they got questions see. Questions you can't answer truth-like and all." Urushi growled. "We weren't here, Cardinal wasn't here, you didn't see us and you don' know more than when you left."

She looked to one and all, all were armed, all were sober. She met Asch's eyes, and recalled. They were so much the same… A breath, two, then he nodded. Encouraging her to agree, asking for her trust, all without saying a word. She'd trusted him, with reservation, and he'd shown her wonders and horrors before setting a path before her that offered some hope. She'd trusted him then and realized with a start that she did now.

"I… I understand."

She didn't, but that was expected. So they took her words at face value not correcting her or calling her out.

"Fine." York's "fine" was as truthful as hers had been. Imperiously the slender man pointed to the table. "Map, here."

To that command Asch complied, setting a rolled up scroll to the table and got on with unrolling it. All Auldrant lay before them, its state was such an impromptu pocket dive had sounded and the edges were pinned. Gald and dirty rocks, a deck of cards, a pile of die, a holy symbol. The last struck Natalia the sharpest. Calm as could be, no reverence at all, Asch had pulled out a small silver fork. The symbol of Yulia Jue herself was etched upon it; or rather lines meant to symbolize her body were scratched into the silver. He lay the symbol of that holy woman's crucification down as easily as if it were spare Gald from his pocket.

Despite her shock she set her eyes to the span before her, mind boggling at the task before her, she sought some comfort. For that her unconscious ruled her eyes, and her gaze strolled across borders 'til she found Batical. A soft sigh slipped past her lips, causing Noir to look up and smirk knowingly. Never noticing, Natalia looked upon the black lines that marked home, lingering over it with a fondness akin to benediction.

"Alright." Snapping Natalia out of her revere the scrawny thief tapped a blue gloved hand to the parchment. One smack, Chesedonia was indicated. "We're here. That's our trouble spot." Another smack, or rather tap, Akzeriuth this time. "Now what?"

Shaking his head, red locks shivering in the light, lamps, for York and Urushi had come so equipped allowing Asch to banish the golden illumination for a time, the Bloody smiled. "You know York, I love how you just sum everything up so it comes out dumb, you know that?"

"Whatever Cardinal."

"Moving along." Softness fled those green eyes, all similarity between him and… and the other she knew so well fled between one blink and another. "Largo and Sync are planning an ambush. The objection is Anise Tatlin's death. A favor of the Commandant for Arietta, there's bad blood between the two girls as I understand it."

He looked to her, inquiry written in his eyes but Natalia shook her head. She hadn't known about that, Luke hadn't been exactly free with the details of his trip to Malkuth, hadn't wanted to talk... Well, he wanted to _complain_ , mainly about Tear, but she hadn't the patience for it. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

"Tear and Ion are to be apprehended using minimal force. Knowing Sync though, hell will freeze over before that happens. I've similar orders, but damned if I follow them. They've set up watch here…" Dabbing up a spot of ash, the Bloody etched a quick sooty circle on the road, right on the quickest road between Chesedonia and Akzeriuth. "Watchers have been scattered along these routes..." All the merchant roads were marked as the ambush had been. All the convenient paths to Akzeriuth were ringed round in foreboding black. "Gryphon riders, one and all. And the monsters are under Arietta's command; they'll carry their knights to their destination, offering no trouble at all."

"Well damn." Urushi groused. "That screws us over ten times, eh Cardinal?"

"Roads out then?" Noir queried.

"For them, yes." Them, Luke's group, he needn't explain that tidbit. Not even to the newest member. "But not for _you_. They'll never look twice at you three fools, lost travelers wandering about Auldrant back roads. You could walk right up, no problem."

"We ain't Knight killers Cardinal!" Urushi whined. "Sparrows, yeah, but Oracle Knights? Do we look that good?"

"We'd better be." York pointed out morosely, poking the nearest observer spot. "Other option is to leave them alone, then when they realize that they've been had they'll all march to Akzeriuth with plans of rep-" a guilty look to Natalia, a cough then to cover for it. "Of… killing, people killing... you know?"

Though Natalia raised an eyebrow and gave the man her sternest look he said nothing, went back to staring at the map, a faint flush creeping up his face.

To that Asch laughed, though he never explained why.

"Joy, oh joy." Noir sighed, leaving little wonder as to where Asch had picked up that pet phrase from. "We've got problems by the Score, damned big problems.

"It gets worse." Asch promised, grim humor fleeing, fleeting.

"Figures," the red haired woman mourned.

"Legretta's been deployed here." One digit traced out Dao pass, leaving another black smear.

"The Commandant's Harlot." Noir corrected.

Face burning up at the woman's language, Natalia joined York in staring at the map. She squirmed at the contradiction that was Noir. Curious as it may be she found more in discomfort with Noir's uncivilized tongue than in the grim situation being set before her. Clearly the land route was out, they'd said that much over and over and she'd picked up all the hints first time around.

So, that left her with the cheery task of trying to convince her friends to go by sea.

Thus distracted, she missed Asch's question, he rapped the table then, and she hopped at that soft sound.

"Natal, you awake?"

"Fine... I'm fine."

She felt sick, but that went without saying. He nodded, reading both truth and lies with practiced green eyes, offered her a small grin to comfort.

"What I was saying is can you convince the…" The Bloody's grin become darker, more of a grimace as he held back some damning word. A world of sick confession was alluded to in Asch's sudden silence. Gracelessly he finished, tweaking language to mask _something_. " _Him_ , to go by sea?"

"I'll do what I can." She assured him, summoning a sick smile all her own.

"Alright, any questions?"

Head shakes were offered by all and one.

"Now, since Daath knows what's going on they've ordered a pull out of all their assets. Money, food, goods, and the like. Those who are Scored to remain are going to be pinned down by orders from up high. They're unmovable, and worthless to our ends, so ignore them."

"Orders by whom?" Natalia asked; ignoring Noir's snicker and York's rolled eyes.

"Grand Maestro Mohs."

"But… if Mohs knows why doesn't he order them to leave? If… whatever is to happen in Akzeriuth is foreordained why not evacuate-?"

"It's Scored, their deaths, Akzeriuth's destruction. And the lazy asses won't lift a finger. Might break their prosperity if someone actually lives." Noir snorted. "Seriously dear, where _are_ your brains?"

Asch snarled at that, hands fisting, and Noir smirked, utterly unrepentant.

"Devout." York corrected fussily.

Urushi simply took a drink, slurping noisily, if there was any meaning to the sound no one bothered to translate for Natalia.

"Your stick," Noir pointed to the unused stirrer by Natalia's right hand. "I need it, seems I left mine at home."

And, despite how she should have held insult over the snub, as was proper of a noble ( _Never forget whom wronged you, strive to strike back at convenienc_ e's _call_ , so went the Noble's code), Natalia wordlessly passed up the metal stick. For a little the only sound was Noir as she stirred her warm drink round and round.

"Now, clacks been that the Commandant Van, that he's not exactly Score friendly. Is he trying to do something to stop this? And if so should we link resources and plots?"

"Hell no!" Noir flared, Urushi growled a similar sentiment, forgoing language and just snarling like an irked NightRaid.

"I'm just sayin'!" York held up a hand as if warding off blows. "I don't like that man, but this is damned serious, and if he's gunna put a stop to this than I'm not above making him do all the work and all the dying!"

"The knights being deployed are fanatics under Van's command." Asch, shook his head, a grimace twisting his face. "While he hates the Score he'll let choicer bits pass to, and I quote " _Keep the lambs of Auldrant content_ ". His… _clack_ as it were… for commoners who are devout to either Score or country."

Lifting cup to his lips, Asch cooled it with a few deep breathes, then took a long drink. Voice restored by his indulgence, the Bloody carried on.

"This has to happen, whatever he's got planed, seeming to follow the Score suits him fine. He'll use… _Luke_ as the trigger, and arrange King Ingobert's death –though that _isn't_ Scored- , and the plague will carry off Emperor Peony, -something that _is_ Scored-. Thus the world will be deprived of its leaders, war may or may not break out, but the infrastructure of Auldrant will come crashing down. The following chaos will make whatever he's got afoot easier to pull off."

"Bigger the distraction, bigger the boodle." Urushi tossed that out as if it were a saw all of his own.

He'd also pulled out a flask from his boot while Asch had been talking, poured a dollop in his cup and slipped it away to a pant pocket. No one commented, the motions had been small and quick, and Natalia had only just barely caught it from the corner of her eye.

"Great…" York sighed, rubbing his stomach with one hand and his head with another.

"So the world falls down, tips over, and gets shook up. We knew that, now what we gunna do about it?" Urushi took a draw of his mug, satisfied he set it aside but not for patting a familiar pocket.

"Could we at least talk to the... to Luke?" York offered, ignoring the glimmer of hate in Asch's eyes. "Toss this into his lap and let him decide. Most sane people would stay home, knowing all this."

"Have you ever tried talking to a stone wall?" The princess asked.

York winced, Noir nodded, after all she'd met Luke, having the dubious honor of picking the princeling's pocket.

Lifting his brown eyes form his mug, steaming besides him, Urushi blinked slow and sure. "Why'd I talk to a wall, dearie?"

"Exactly." Natalia took a sip, the brew seemed bitter for not being stirred.

"That one went a little fast." Urushi complained mildly.

"What she's saying, Urush'," Noir offered the metal rod back, and Natalia set to work mixing up her drink… She was trying oh-so hard not to think-

… _He plans to arrange King Ingobert's death…_

-but in that her heart betrayed her, set her to worrying. "Is that hell'll freeze over. We're screwed. And Luke Fon Fabre's a damned idiot."

"He's Scored to be." York pointed out. "That and an arrogant bastard."

"He wasn't. Arrogant, yeah, but no fool. No one's fool." Noir countered pride obvious.

Looking both amused and flushed with obvious anger, the Bloody finished off his drink, to keep from talking. The evasion was so obvious Natalia cast him a curious look. To that Asch shook his head, refusing to explain.

So, Natalia dropped her eyes. Round and round her mind chased one thought, round and round the stick twirled in the confines of the cup. She let banter and repartee slide right on by, never mind it's worth.

Finally, sick and tired of it all she glared at her drink, and took it down with one swallow.

_Father would hardly approve…_

But Father wasn't there right now, and present company whooped at her bravo, or rather Urushi did. Noir settled for clapping, York let out a soft cackle that served him for laughter.

"Lady, you can hold yer liquor!" The short man hooted.

"Urushi, shut up." Asch snarled.

Mug empty, distractions aside, Natalia felt ready. She looked at the map and its black markings, and set her jaw to a stubborn clench. Father… Father would be alright, Van wouldn't dare, so she took comfort in delusion and set her hand to the task before her.

"I believe we should set a full evacuation for the area about Akzeriuth." She tapped the page, smearing the mark Asch had left to indicate the small cluster of villages about the main mine. "There are villages, many small farm steads, all about Akzeriuth. Some are there to supply foodstuff for the miners, others are entertainers and the like…"

"The usual dredges of humanity that unbridled greed draws." York supplied.

"They are _people_." Natalia flared, hands clenching, fists heating up. She shot to her feet, and regretted the move. The map and table and all the rooms occupants swum in her vision for one alarming second. A blink and head shake cleared that up. "Not dredges, or drudges… or whatever you just called them."

"Easy girlie, we get it." Urushi placated. Broken teeth flashed in a grin he asked. "Feelin' dizzy?"

"A tad." Natalia confessed, knowing well what the man was asking between the lines.

"Enjoy the buzz." Urushi advised grandly. "I always do."

"Regardless of fool's advice, the people _are_ important, enough so that we'll need to take time to pull them out. If this does fail, it'll fail spectacularly." Asch sighed. "Damned if I know how to call this all off. He's _that_ stupid."

While she didn't want to call Luke stupid… and wanted so much to protest Asch's assessment… she knew Luke, Luke was stubborn, more so than the Scored Luke. The Luke she knew would challenge mountains and get sulky when they failed to fall before his "might".

"Knights first, people second." Noir sighed. "Damned if Auldrant's that cruel, but we can't get refugees clear with the knights still kicking. They'd butcher the civilians. Asch, you've done this before-"

 _Such has been my nightmares_ …

"-how bad's the blast?"

"Give me a compass, I'll mark it out for you." Asch offered, hand extended, waiting. York dug about in his pocket, provided the materials, and Asch drew first one circle –twenty miles at its radius- than another –ten miles beyond the first- around it. The mountains about Akzeriuth were scared by the second black line, the whole of Deo pass encased by the sweep of the first.

"First span marks what's going to fall. It'll all be annihilated, the outer edges taking the longest to fall. Ten minutes after the Sephiroth goes none of this is going to exist."

All the cities about Akzeriuth were in the first span marked, Natalia swallowed, felt sick. Around Asch, faces pale and somber, the Dark Wings looked equally ill. Seemingly unconcerned, Asch pressed on, his hands shaking just so.

"Second span is going to be poisoned lands. Miasma will so saturate the soil and water deposits that everything natural will die within the course of a month. Any structures, natural or synthetic, will start to erode; a lot of it will break down and slide into the hole at the very edges. The rim will probably turn granular as the molecular stability of the earth wears away under the Miasma's pull. Again, that'll take a month. It wouldn't pay to be there though during the collapse, I imagine Miasma will gush out in streams after the land mass falls through."

"You imagine?" York muttered, rub rub went the hand pressed over his stomach.

"I… I've seen it, but I'm not omnipresent."

"That's… a lot of villages to hit." Noir poked at the spans Natalia had marked with her slender sweeps. "How long we got?"

"Two weeks. Maximum." Asch sighed. "That's the Scored date."

"Well, to quote Urush' I'd say we're screwed ten ways." York sighed. "So, when we start?"

"And how we get them peoples to believe us?" Urushi grumbled. "We walk up as we are, they'd laugh us out of town."

"That or we'd swing, from the gates." Noir snarled. "Bloody hell, we can't just waltz into a town and say look, you all need to leave-"

"Perhaps…" Nipping her lip, Natalia considered. "A royal decree? I could write one up, ordering people to evacuate and to follow you…"

"Without soldiers to back us?" York snapped. "No one'd believe that!"

Green eyes fixed on the map; Asch twiddled with his mug, then looked up, something tentative, like hope, flickering in his eyes. "Priests…" He tasted the word, played with the idea it represented. "You could pass yourselves off as Scorers. The people may not listen to their King, but the Score… If they were told to die on a date, they do it, never questioning…"

"Sos we tell them to move… Scored, we says." Urushi followed the thought, grinning. "Damned if I don't like it!"

"Damned if we do it." York cut in. "It's Daathic law, only Scorers certified by Daath can command the people."

"I can forge something making you all ceremonial Scorers." Asch offered.

"And we get caught, considering there's a priest in every town, what if someone reads the bluff? We swing then, Kimlascan law that. Daath doesn't get a say. And dead we can't do you no good." The emaciated man protested.

To that Natalia smiled, seeing a clean span in all this madness. "Then, good sir, I'll pardon you. If they use a Daathic law to punish you Asch can get you off the hook with his papers. If they try a Kimlascan law I'll set you with diplomat status, representatives of Kimlasca are exempt from normal laws."

"So we could do… _anything_? And not get in trouble, even if we're caught?" Urushi wondered; face nearly deific with a sudden infusion of joy.

Leaning back, mug still in hand, the Bloody sighed. "Set limits on that, Natal. Strict limits, and a time limit too."

Looking to the gathering of felons (or worse, heavens only know who they were really) Natalia checked a shiver. Urushi smiled, as if he'd been given the best gift a man might ever receive, York rubbed his hands, already talking about plans to himself, and the silence about Noir seemed… ominous. Very ominous.

"Two weeks and a day." Natalia declared. "To accommodate for today's needs until crisis' end. I can manage to gift you a stipend of a thousand Gald to buy transportation for the people you rescue from my personal allowance. The stipend and immunity are _only_ good for Kimlasca. So don't use it in Malkuth or make me look bad by acting up in Malkuth."

Still, all were smiling, indulgent; York seemed on the verge of dancing. Bemused, Asch looked form one "associate" to the other; clearly worried they'd break out in song any moment now.

Natalia set her face to the most rigid lines she could manage. Glared from one to the other, trying to gather all her royal dignity about her. She did not exclude Asch from this; after all, one was not called the Bloody Handed for the color of one's locks.

"Furthermore I'll personally review any conducts of your behavior I get. If you do _one_ thing that wasn't for this and I hear about it you won't swing, but I'll set you _all_ " Another look, this time to Asch who was smiling as if he were exempt. "to a suitable punishment."

Leaning forward, smiling wide, Noir patted Natalia's check. Effectively ruining Natalia's attempt to get them to acknowledge her authority. "Don't worry dear, you won't catch us at one thing, I personally promise."

Natalia didn't find much comfort in that. Truth be told, she found none at all.

 


	41. A nap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those reading and kudosing, thank you for taking the time and I hope the later chapters please. There's about ten more to go which I hope to have wound down by the end of the month.

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 41

A nap

They left soon after, taking papers in hand, church immunity and state diplomacy status (temporary, Natalia had not been joking about that in the least) in hand. Exiting as quietly as they'd entered, which was to say they were not quiet at all…

Irritated with her own inclination to… soften things up with excessive language, Natalia shook her head. She'd call it what it was, at least in the privacy of her own mind. They were boisterous, there were no other words. Urushi –who'd taken a few more nips than one from his flagon- was not steady, and York catching all the telltale signs lingered close. Noir, as always, simply laughed at them all. And somehow, between banter and bluster, vulgarity and flamboyance, little things were slipped in.

For example, between bouts of raucous laughter Noir sobered enough to slip Asch a quick peck on the cheek and forehead. It was chaste gesture, followed up with a playful rustle of those silken locks.

"You need a trim, Birdie."

Asch's answering glare said "don't call me that" better than any words.

Laughing off the threat Noir sauntered to Natalia, kicking up a quick sparkling conversation that was utterly divorced of the earlier topics. Somewhat shocked by the mood the woman was invoking in her, Natalia gamely went along with the chatter. Answering this and that lightly, never touching upon anything of substance.

Somewhere, somehow, during the course Natalia's attention slipped away, and when it came back, and her eyes drifted away from Asch once more, she found Noir a different person. Serious, somber even, with only a quirk of her lips to summon the ghost of who she was before. Leaning close, Noir treated her to the same light pecks, forgoing a hair rustle.

"Take care of him, for me, will you dear?"

Then Noir was going, gone, red gown shivering about her, half hiding, half flaunting her nearly overpowering feminitey.

Natalia had just enough time to take a deep breathe, fruit scented and subtle, testament to Noir's taste in perfume, before a powerful arm looped about her waist. She was pulled close, and the scent of bear and whine told her who it was. Urushi engulfed her slender frame in a bear hug, one armed, that threatened to break all her ribs.

Her squeak set him to laughing; roars of mirth that made Asch look up and consider them both with a smirk.

"I always like to see the pretty one's blush! Ain't she a sight, York!"

"Yes," Turning from his quiet discourse with Asch at long last, the thing man bared his teeth. It wasn't a smile, there wasn't a scratch of warmth to the whole, and in that moment with him dressed all in blue she was reminded of Colonel Curtis. Dropping the hand he'd set on Asch's shoulder, twisting long fingers as if to clean them, York considered her, his one eye gleaming. "I suppose she is."

"Urush'!" Noir yowled from a world away. The real world, beyond all the fantasy. "We need to go!"

"Comin' I'm comin' lady! Gods damn, you're impatient." With a final parting squeeze and a pat Urushi let her go. Chortling and making rather crude comments all the while, he snatched up the cane he'd leaned against the table and between walking stick and the tables edge managed to meander to Asch. York saw what was coming, of course, and for seeing he skirted away.

The God General didn't squeak. God Generals clearly weren't allowed that indulgence. But he did curse as he was lifted a few inches off the floor by Urushi's beery exuberance.

Smiling, safely out of range, York picked a path to her, well across from her actually. The scarred table stood between them, and he considered her long and hard with his vibrant blue eye. It was both lighter, and darker than Guy's eyes, and in that moment the contradiction didn't bother her at all.

"Mi'lady?"

He extended a hand, and she took his offer, head tipped to the side just so. Even through his gloves his hands were a mite chill, obviously clammy, and this close, without his flamboyance being waved about she saw his pallor and the sheen of sweet upon his brow. Still, sickness aside he bowed, kissed her knuckles, and the breath that teased her knuckles was far from steady.

"Any doubts?" He asked.

She opened her mouth, caught completely off guard by the question. She didn't know what to say, and he looked up, took in her surprise and his teeth bearing degraded into a smile. "You'd be a fool if you say no, so don't." He advised.

Then with that he let her go, a moment passed, he blinked, Asch swore, and there was a thud as the God General was finally put down.

To that background of humor, his grin became twisted, confession slid past his lips.

"I was a noble once, someone important you know. Malkuth, or rather you'd say _Malkuthite_ , but I was important." He chuckled. "Look how far it's got me now."

He bowed to her once more, than turned on his heel and went to retrieve Urushi. Winding a slender arm about the unsteady man's shoulders, York endured Urushi's singing. Something about a whiskey bar.

The song trailed off, marking their departure, all was sealed by the slamming of a distant door. For a while there was silence, then that silence broke with the rustle of cassock and tabard being stirred. Asch the Bloody was clearly Asch the Bruised, and he was nursing his sore ribs with an expression that was part grimace part smile.

Both hands on the table, slightly stooped herself, Natalia shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Are... are they always like that?"

Asch ceased his rubbing, nodded.

Thinking of everything, and nothing, Natalia slid into her chair. Plopped actually, she was honest enough to accept that lack of manners with only a wince. The back of the throne smacked into her spine and forced her to sit up straight with a soft gasp.

There was another plop, with overtures of steel, as Asch took Urushi's plush, misshapen, chair with a little moan.

"God, I'm tired." The Bloody sighed, eyes closed, head thrown back, his legs spread in an uncivilized sprawl.

Between them, stood the blank table. Nick knacks and map having gone out with the three. Considering their profession it was better to skip asking who had taken what.

Idly she wondered if Asch still had his holy symbol.

"I... I could leave so you can sleep." Natalia offered, recalling conversations' start.

"Nnh…"

Taking that noncommittal sound as approval Natalia stood. She felt a might giddy, a little dizzy, but that passed and she brushed the front of her shirt to orient herself. Something seemed off… lighter. On a hunch she checked her pant pocket, and found her gald pouch was missing.

She hadn't meant to swear, but the graphic phrase sort of tumbled out, Asch's eyes popped open at her choice of language.

"You said… _what_?" The Bloody choked.

Arms crossed, not caring about manners and protocol, Natalia glared as Asch, after all he was responsible, round about. "Clearly a thousand gald wasn't enough for your "associates"." Natalia gnashed out the words.

Understanding dawned. Asch blinked, then began to laugh.

Still he tried to explain, his snickers making him hard to understand.

It's… it's compulsive for them, Natal. It's not personal."

"It." Natalia grated out. "Was _my_ money!"

"It's for a good cause!" Asch choked out, trying and failing to defend his friends against their so called villainy. No such luck there, seething, plots of punishment dancing in her mind, Natalia threw herself into the throne she'd meant to quit. Her growl was not the least soothed.

"I. Was. Robbed!"

To that Asch laughed harder, laughed 'til he cried. Wincing and rubbing at his ribs, he laughed and sniggered at her plight. He also slid a few inches down; she was tempted to remind him of his posture…

Instead, she tossed out a lofty. "A _gentleman_ wouldn't laugh at me."

He laughed even harder at that. Bonelessly slipping lower and lower. Suddenly his mirth stopped, he realized… Powerful hands craped against slick felt, his nails made a peculiar scraping sound, then down he went, gently pushed out by the fluff of his chair. Natalia tried not to smirk as he went down, his bad posture and manners had been his downfall… She felt no guilt; he'd been warned after all.

Her face hurt though, meaning her attempts to not smile were failing. Ah well, such was what confession was for.

He managed one last comical look of panic before going under. There was a most satisfying clonk –his head hitting the table's edge- and a thud –the rest of him landing on the floor- then his curses sounds post facto.

All in all it was quite satisfying.

XX

She'd of thought them proper, but he winnowed through artifice and real for so long he was able to find the real water pump with no problem. One commandeered bucket, half full, and a muttered Arte later and he now had a sizable chunk of ice. Using a knife he worked out a large chunk from the whole.

When he reached to pluck off the cassock that was slung about his shoulders Natalia stopped him with a touch.

A touch and an offer. One that caused him to smile and accept.

Winding the ice in her scarf she set it against his skull herself. The bruise was as impressive as his fall had been. Sighing with relief, Asch sat at her feet looking up, his green eyes a mystery.

Then he yawned, and that decided something for him.

"There are some blankets and stuff under the frog stuffie." Asch grunted, tossing out a hand to indicate the general direction. Even if he hadn't she'd of not missed the thing, it was nearly as big as the enlarged Tokunagua doll Anise used in battle. One span of wrestling later, a push, -and a clatter, she'd started guiltily at the sound of something breaking but he didn't comment, hopefully he didn't hear- Natalia had enough room to retrieve the teal green blankets and pillows.

Staring raptly at nothing, he started at her return, grinned, and she steadied him with an arm about his mid-section. Still holding him up, she set a pillow just so, winding a blanket about him for good measure. Then there was the process of easing him down. For his part, he kept the ice in place, and tried not to move too much.

As an afterthought, before descent's end, she gathered up then gently pushed his hair to the side to avoid unnecessary tangling and the like. He let out another gaping yawn; looked quite cozy wrapped and pillowed, and with a final stretch closed his eyes.

But not before meeting her eyes, a world of gratitude etched amongst the green

He looked so… -and he'd think badly of her if he knew she thought this- so _young_ like that. With the black of an adult's garb obscured by a lighter hue he lost _years_. That and his face eased the lines about his mouth and eyes smoothed as he slipped under.

She smiled, never knowing the indulgent slant of her benediction, never seeing.

"Good night." The endearment slipped back, she'd surely feel shamed later, but now…

Now that wasn't important.

She stood, or meant to.

As before, he caught her in an awkward moment. Between rising and falling. Save this time he didn't set his blade across her throat to arrest all motion.

His hand closing lightly over her wrist was enough.

"Stay?" He murmured. "You… you didn't sleep well either."

How in heavens did he know _that_?

All accidental his thumb teased the hollow of her wrist, traced up and arced about the swell that preceded her fingers. She shivered pulse quickening, something electric threading her spine. Another sweep, surely he felt her heat's quickening, for he smiled, his eyes remained shut however.

"Please?"

He smiled so well, without acid or anger to the gesture. The soft expression stole what little anger was left to him. She'd not call his expression angelic, she'd had her fill of God and Angels both, but it was… soothing. He was so beautiful when he smiled like that.

Reaching out with her free hand, she swiped at a descending thread of water that had slipped past the folds of her scarf. Hand a mite chill, she stroke his face. Edge of eye to corner of curled lips. So went her path.

She'd lived this all before, she knew. In places that were meant to be with people who were not. Save now she was back, in a place that was never to have been.

With a man who was never supposed to be.

"Of course." She yawned. "It's been a day."

"Hmm…" Fingers spread, he kneaded her hand, traced soothed. Still her pulse refused to slow, even as he twined his fingers between hers.

"Tired…" He whispered the confession, smile faltering a little. His smile returned in force when she eased herself down. For virtues sake she'd not slid under the blankets, but lay atop, a quick nap and she'd put the whole day in perspective. She'd… well she couldn't go shopping _now_ , but she'd manage some sort of excuse to deflect her friend's questions.

Then, she'd set to plans to coax them to travel by sea.

But that was later. For now she folded herself down, only reluctantly quitting his grip, and she was always quick to retrieve it when it needed to be broke off.

Asch's soft chuckle sounded in the dark, the lantern from the room before went out with a soft sigh as she settled at last.

"Best of dreams, beloved." Asch whispered. Lifting their conjoined hands he gave her fingers a soft kiss. Then, perfectly content, he allowed his tenuous grip on being awake to slide away.

Still he was awake enough to hear her final words before slumber took him.

"Good night to you too, Asch..."


	42. Plan b, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exploring some theory's with Asch, the idea that he recalls (somewhat) trying and failing at this before is intriguing, to me at least... So I explored it a little about the edges. Written to Yuki Kajiura's In Memory of You.

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 42

Plan B, part one

 

She woke with a yawn, and a stretch. Not wanting to great the dawn just yet she snuggle against the warmth at her side, whining in her throat as it moved. Soft words, a caress, and she slipped under, drowsing. Something soft to nuzzle was set before her, even as the warmth was on the decline, and that softness told her things were alright.

The offering wasn't as warm as the last, not firm either, but it didn't move or protest her touch. And that was something.

With a mutter she rolled, twining blanket and pillows and limbs into an intricate knot,

He laughed, his voice so familiar though it should not be. A caress slipped over the side of her face, perhaps his lips brushed against her own. Regardless of truth, she was comforted, and slipped under sleeps seductive, dark, waters with the barest of sighs.

XX

Asch woke with a start. Woke all at once as was his norm with adrenalin gripping him in it's quaking talons and throwing him back into the world of the cognizant. There was no crash at being so rudely dropped, rather a jolt as he went stiff and waited for the details to make sense.

Softness under him, not bed soft, but blanket. He reached out with a hand that didn't tingle, fingered sheets and pillow and felt course wood under both. There was little comfort in his realization though, for there were other sensations unaccounted for. Sensations that set his hackles to rising.

A breath against his ear, an arm slung over his chest, a leg tucked over his own. The arm to his left prickled as he twitched the fingers, trying to figure out what the Hell had happened. The burning bereft of flame that greeted the motion told him the limb was asleep, had fallen to circulation's failure when she'd rolled close enough to unfold him. She snuggled against him with a happy noise, even then letting vent to a little squeaky sound that caused his heart to race faster than when the adrenalin had held him tight.

He'd not call her, or the sound, cute. But it caused his normally steely gaze to soften, inspired him to consider the benefits of pulling her closer, holding her tight.

Still, something nattered, and as he laid there, eyes open and thoughts clearing, duty reared before him. It was time to get up, more than time. Heaven –if there was one beyond this living hell called life- only knew what the real hour was, it might be too late already.

That was enough of a prompt to get up and doing, all temptation to the contrary was easily pushed aside at the realization of what would happen if he failed. He worked his arm free from under her –she whined at that, a kiss on his part caused her to calm and go back to bed- and struggled to sit up. It was harder than it should be. One arm insisted on not working right and was hurting like blazes besides.

Then, as he contemplated a few moments spent in grousing at his limbs stubbornness Natalia half woke. Reached out, and pulled him close to her. All resolve went merrily out the window as the mother of temptations all but snuggled against him. It didn't help that her hand had found purchase on his belt buckle and the tugging as she whined at him to lay back down was on a rather… sensitive area.

He swallowed hard at that, hands fisted, then unfisting as he met and fought temptation down. Once sure of himself he gently unwound her fingers, and with a bit of shifting freed up a pillow and let her snuggle _that_.

He told his heart to stop its insistent hurting as she embraced his offering with an endearing little smile and nuzzled it so deeply…

He also told the resulting jealousy to take a long walk off of a short cliff, but that scarcely worked.

It never had before, so that was improvement of a sort he supposed.

Safely extracted and sitting on the edge of a rather intricate knot of blankets, pillows and soft limbs, the God General took an external inventory to better ignore the temptation at his back. His uniform was rumpled, his hair distinctly mussed. Even without raking a hand though it it had that _feel_... That frizzled on high surrealist tingle that told him he'd used too much gel and had slept on it just right to make him resemble a hedgehog. Checking a sigh he rakes a hand, digits spread wide, though the crimson tangle he called hair. He winced at the inevitable tangles he encountered.

Enough of that.

With a look back and a chuckle Asch the Bloody stood, stretched, and still pawing at his hair –traitorous hand, like his eyes, it wouldn't behave, still trying to mend what couldn't be tended with mere friction- the sight spied from over his shoulder summoned a yawn. Natalia slept like… well like a princess should he supposed. Deeply, without a trouble in the world, and her relaxed visage was enough to recall him to his exhaustion and beacon him back to the blankets.

He ignored that, indulged in a gap faced yawn that set his jaw to aching and had to laugh at himself.

He laughed harder when she snuggled against the pillow with another one of those squeak chirp noises. She smiled in her sleep, untroubled by dreams. Heart constricting, he considered her in the dark, she looked so beautiful, even when he couldn't see very well, the sheets clung and obscured her frame by alluring turns.

He took a deep breath, another, tried to ignore how each draw of air had her subtle soft scent added to it, and failed abysmally at his task.

No matter the temptation he'd have to rise above it, he'd failed once for scumbling to it… Or at least he thought he did. There were times when he wasn't even sure any more as to what had happened and what he dreamed up. Turning on his heel, Asch fell into a soldier's clipped stride, using that to help distance him from her. He was a soldier, she wasn't, and while Noir would have insisted that it really didn't matter she'd of also insisted on other stupid things. Like how he shouldn't be a pansy and just indulge in the temptation Natalia inspired in him. He didn't dare, never think… well he'd think about it, but he'd never indulge the fancy. And yes, while a baser part of him really really _really_ wanted to, Natalia'd never forgive him for it. _Hadn't_ forgiven him for it. So he did without, focused on duty, and tried not to recall the time when they had been so much more than enemies on other ends of the battlefield.

Because, no matter how he recalled the feel of her, the taste, it wasn't (as Natalia herself would have said) _real_ , wasn't _right_. This was the true reality, and he'd deal with it and ignore the temptations Score set before him.

After all, God hardly approved of what he was about, he'd set temptations before his straying Scion, and yes, from time to time Asch had fallen.

And Auldrant had died for it, though Planet and Planet's memory had forgiven him it wasn't true forgiveness, rather his actions had been forgotten when time had been rewound time and time again.

Save he hadn't, Asch had been left the memories of each and every failure, they echoes in his very bones, ravaged his subconscious, and was the stuff of his dreams.

And ever the stuff of his nightmares.

Pacing along fancy, he strode through scenery and faux doors, wending a path around props and the discarded costume. Finally, the door, a real door, he pulled it open, slipped inside, and was faced with found blank walls of canvas. No distractions here save one thing. A cabinet. Clothes cabinet, its insignia scraped out as it had been salvaged from a nobles trash pile. Idly he wondered if it had been from house Fabre, the wood was red tinged and he knew that _that_ House had adored Kimlasca's national hue.

Shaking his head, banishing the thought, he pulled open the scared cabinet's door and perused the contents. The perusal summoned a tired sigh.

White, adolescent, glaringly flashy, he looked at a white coat, and the black demon insignia on the back glowered at him. All in all it was a fair trade.

Wishing he didn't have to put on the stupid garb, Asch the Bloody steeled himself. Damn Luke Fon Fabre and his bad taste. He was going to look stupid, he hated looking stupid.. But… But things had to be done, this had to be done, he'd done more distasteful things in the past. It was just, just then he couldn't recall one.

At least it would fit, it was 't much of a comfort, but it was there.

He sighed, the first strap of his tabard came undone with a sullen sounding click. It wasn't the only sullen thing about, sad to say.

 


	43. plan b, part 2

Flicker of Judgment 

chapter 42

Plan B, Part two

She woke fully this time, with a wide warn and a smile. Stretching, as was her norm, she twisted about, seeking the window. Al in all it was habit, and her brain was fuzzy, her back stiff. So, for a little, half asleep, she looked hither and yon. No window did she find, her quest of the sun was an utter failure.

And, with that she woke up a little.

There were no windows here, the only light about was a fon tech lantern set by the tangles mess of blankets at her feet. Modestly winding a mess of green and softness about her waist, Natalia sat up, bemused by the oddities about her. Scrolls propped up swords with no edge. Books were set in plates, a pen and inkwell set to the side, so you could season your text to taste. Nearest, so intricate it was nearly artwork, was a mess of feathers and twine, and upon its soft bosom of down lay… a brick. The last irritated her. She moved the brick and looked up from her labor to consider the king of it all. Massive, it towered, long limbs sprawled upon a lopsided throne of blanket and down. Felt green of course, it and its throne was a familiar green and to that she smiled.

Shaking her head, she looked about, seeking walls, and found herself caged by fancy. She wound the softness about her tighter, and marveled. Of all the things she'd expected, that were expected of her, this was so far from her Scored peace, tranquility, and path of least resistance it was a wonder Lorelei himself didn't stoop down and drag her away.

All in all she found this much more invigorating than any path to would be prosperity, the view was much nicer.

The clop of boots snapped her out of her revere. One wall gave a rustling sigh, shivered on the confines of its frame. Then, a door she'd thought was merely decoration proved to be working, and a familiar red head strolled in.

He wore white of course. A white split tailed coat with its demon icon stitched to the back. His face was dear, familiar, framed by breath taking crimson as all royalty of Kimlasca _must_ have. He wore a short sword that was roguishly thrust through the crude holster so it dangled horizontally from his belt. All in all it was a rather adolescent touch, for it paralleled the looping leather, accented his baggy black pants with i's naked silver as a contrast. His over large, fingerless gloves twiddled with his sword for a moment, and in the chancy light the bronze clips that kept them from sliding off seemed gold. She smiled for the familiarity, even as his green eyes, more precious than the emeralds they brought to mind, considered her with something like delight.

Natalia could nearly hear his thoughts, and more asleep than awake in that moment imagined that if she drew close and set her ear to his temple she might be able to discern tenor if not outright content.

Another yawn, he smiled at her indulgence, and reclined against the door's frame while she gathered wit and divorced it from fancy.

More clear eyes than a moment before, she smiled up at him, thoughts of the sun forgotten.

"Good afternoon Asch."

He blinked, smile faltering as surprise took its place. Then, bitter grin in place he shook his head, marveled.

"And, just like that, you know who I am?"

She laughed, and forsook duty before his shocked eyes. Sprawling amongst tangled blankets, and pillows she let out a little giggle. His smile returned, genuine, though from her angle she couldn't see it.

"You do look alike." Natalia conceded, picking up a pillow, she tossed it to herself, considered weight and aerodynamics. Not satisfied she set it aside in favor of another. "But there are a hundred and one differences. You just have to pay attention, that's all."

Silently Asch watched her play, face flushing. It took effort, a false start that made him mime a fish with his mouth sagging open and closed and the like, but eventually he managed to croak out. "Has anyone mentioned how... _unprincess_ like you are?"

Recalling Goldberg, the council, and all their similar sentiments, Natalia corrected the Bloody.

"The word is _undignified_."

To that Asch snorted. "Undignified alludes to a lack of grace." His green eyes flickered over what her sprawled position and the covers accented, his regard lingered. "It'd never set _that_ charge against you."

"Stop that!" Natalia snarled, and the Bloody's gaze loitered, grew distracted...

Clearly the man wasn't listening. And to that she responded. She threw the pillow, and he jolted at the attack, but for a man notorious for foul temper he took the hit with good enough grace. Raising one gloved hand he raked his red locks, rustled them with an absent scratch.

"Sorry."

Still she flushed, shame and anger mixing with… well with things she wasn't going to spend time delving into just then. Green eyes locked on her face, he considered her expression, ticked that tally against her words and actions. Clearly one word wasn't going to make the cut, so he followed it with action.

One bow, hand over heart, and thus he performed an archaic gesture of one noble to another, seeking forgiveness for trespass.

In Luke's clothing, when Asch did it, it looked wrong. White hardly suited the Bloody at all.

And that affirmed what she knew already, had taken to heart hours and hours ago. Asch wasn't Luke, it was just that simple. Though he looked a great deal like Luke, he wasn't. There was a comfort in that. She say up with a struggle, sweat slicked hand skidding on the sheets almost undid her. Still, she pushed that scare aside and she persisted.

Sitting up again, blankets wound about to muffle the hardness of the floor, she picked up another pillow, set it in her lap. That didn't do much to blunt the hardness under her, but there was a comfort in holding something soft and delicate. So, for comfort's sake, she stroked the pillow. A quick glance down as something tingled between her fingers led her to discover some of his red locks upon the pillow.

Clearly the Bloody was a prolific shedder.

"What time is it?"

Clearly this wasn't the expected question, for he raised an eyebrow, watching her as sure and steady as a compass to the northern quadrant. But that was expected, yet one of their many differences. Still, he answered her well enough, smiling for some odd reason.

"It presently is an hour before noon."

She hummed over that, lifting one hand to tap a digit against her lower lip. She considered her actions, the others, and her mind circled one quandary. Even if there was a sour taste in her mouth, and a rumbling in her stomach to reaffirm the Bloody's statement and remind her that there were other issues to be considered… They weren't important, not just then.

Was she missed? Had she been gone too long? The others were always embroiled in their own dynamics and drama and at times they almost forgot she was there. Would this be one of those times? They knew she was "out" and had left early in the morning. Approximately four hours had passed since then and now… alright, possibly five… But was that long enough, too long, too short?

Bother, this was annoying! If this was a taste of what Asch had to do when he was serving… whoever... and trying to subvert Lorelei at the same time than she felt nothing but sympathy for the man.

Tentatively she settled on a "probably not" to her earlier questions, the others were a mite selfish at times, so she had some time to play with. They'd think she was lost, or wondering, or forgot the time.

Perhaps that gave her another two hours, she'd not take that long if she could… but it set a good limit to her "abscence".

And that issue settled, another came to the fore, her stomach's snarl inspired her.

"I haven't quite forgiven your friends for their theivory. Steeling from a Royal is a capital offense, you know."

And, though he looked like Luke, Asch wasn't. For he caught what lay between the lines. Dipping into another bow, his green eyes didn't linger, the motion was quick and fast and utterly respectful.

"Will the lady permit me an explanation, over a bite?"

"If his lordship-" While "excellency" was his proper title for Asch was a noble –per his rank in the Daathic church- and a citizen of the theocracy of Daath and as such a foreigner, Natalia tossed out the Kimlascan nicety. And she was rewarded for her audacity. Those green eyes widened, and then narrowed as he recognized the shot. Then, at last he smirked, an indulgent slant to his features making the motion more benediction than mockery. "-will consent to a few ground rules, the answer will be yes."

"That," the Bloody warned, still grinning, "depends on those rules."

"You're paying"

A nod to that, it was a given after all.

"You'll be explaining how the blazes you got Luke's spare coat. And what purpose you have wearing Luke's clothes."

A shrug, clearly this was anticipated, elementary, for he was looking bored.

"And you will call me Nat, not Natal."

That surprised him. E opened hi mouth to protest, then with a scowl clearly thought better of it. He squashed the question, but not before she'd caught a glint of hurt in his eyes.

"It's not that I mind." And wonder of wonders she didn't just the idea of him calling her Nat seemed… off… Wrong even. "But if you're going to look like Luke you might want to act like him too. He doesn't' call me Natal, and dressed as you are… I can only assume that you want to learn to act like Luke?"

"I don't want to." Asch confessed. "But I need to."

She almost asked why, almost, but he'd promised already to explain over lunch.. breakfast… whatever. She wouldn't press until the food was between them.

"Then you have to clal me Nat."

Natalia pushed off the floor and it's muffling softness, and that roused Asch to action. He went to her, offered a hand, an offer she'd accepted. From sitting to standing, once steady he took a step back then bent to pick up the fon tech lantern at the blanket's base.

It was a simple thing, of translucent glass and thin metal wires holding it together. Occasionally a little metal knob, a hinge, thrust out, but more of less it was a smooth, simple, device. At it's heart, flickering with red lightening that swayed like flames only in the most wild fancy, was a shard of fon stone. Element could be told by hue, so the red of it marked it as the fifth fonon

"You'll have to whine a little, you're too stoic." Natalia pointed out.

Asch's grimace told tales.

"For a man trying to "save Akzeriuth" he's such a brat." The Bloody groused.

Twisting the knob at the lantern's base, Asch cut off the air into the contraption. The light within flickered, dimmed. A soft click and a glass panel near the top slipped open, the light flared at the infusion of second fonon, or air, and then dimmed once more. The heat that seeped out from the opening was indescribable, worse than outside.

"Since he was kidnapped…" Natalia nipped her lips, wondering if this wasn't a betrayal… not of Lorelei but of a more personal slant. Thus torn she fell silent, Asch twiddled with the knob, though its purpose was spent. Still, he was… they would be working together for now, it seemed. If that was the case she must trust him, as he'd trusted her. "He's… he's become someone else. He's a child, he looks an adult, but he's a boy under that. And not in a good way."

Eyes resolutely down, the Bloody set the knob to its lowest setting, it clicked in protest. Light retreated, the room lost its colors and edges in a rush, and all the lines that remained were striped with crimson. There wasn't much to see no, only the edges of Asch's face the angles of his form.

"Do you love him?"

She started, her eyes went wide though there was little to see. Her heart staggered to a stop.

"He… we are… the Score said…"

Ignoring it all, he lifted his gaze, met her eyes.

"Do you love him?"

The world hinged upon her answer, she could see the gravity of her response to him etched in the green fire of his eyes.

"We're to be married…"

"You're not answering my question." The Bloody rebuked, voice soft, as if trying to preserve the light. But the fire was dying, the fuel to the fon stone cut and it's illumination on the decline. It shuddered at his words, as did she.

He didn't have to repeat himself, his quiery thundered through the hallowed halls of her mind, and all the niggling doubts, the concerns, th worries rushed to the fore. As potent as they'd been those seven years ago.

Licking her lips, she recalled something her Father had said.

"If you are given a miracle, a prayer answered, and a wonder beyond worth, would you question it?"

For Luke being found again, whole and in relative good health in a potential war zone had been something of a miracle. None had questioned it, save she. And Father had rebuked her so terribly for it…

This was how Father had started his rebuke, those seven years ago.

"Humanity was given a wonder, nearly four thousand years ago. They discovered promise made by a-would be God. Glory without end, wonders foretold, immortality promised. Bound to time's drive, they cloaked the bloody portents in pretty words and pittling song and told us it was all that mattered. Don't question, or doubt though. You must forsake fear, concern, doubt, for all was predetermined. But the future would be glorious. Shawled in musical terms, for Yulia was quite the musician, or so I'm told, they called it the Score."

Her breath hitched, if Father could hear this… but he wasn't here, it was him and her, and in her heart she agreed. Always had.

"Do I question? Would I? I've never stopped, not since I was a child. Did you?"

"No… I never stopped… and Yes…" She shivered, sighed, the light dimmer further, he was a black and crimson blur, once again. "I think I do… a little… sometimes. But not like they want me to."

To that he chuckled, a devil's delight, that macabre sound. The light nearly was gone now, just a memory in her mind.

"Love isn't _sometimes_ , Natal."

The light let out a final flicker and with a hiss the red lightnings of the stone went out, spiting out a flurry of ash to coat the glass panels in flecks of black.

She was denied expression then, the road to understanding barred and blocked by the dark.

"Good or bad, wrong or right, rain or shine, love's love."

His sincerity, all the blocks aside, she couldn't doubt.

"You may love someone differently than another. A parent's love differs from that between closest friends… But intensity, consistency, if that's in flux than what you feel isn't love. It doesn't dwindle, merely grows with time. And when it withers and warps than what warmth you feel isn't love. Rather habits handover."

A metallic ting, he set the lantern down thern. A clink heralded the glass flaps closing. The dark was perfect, bereft of horizon, shape, color, and all but stripped of sound. She floated though rooted to the very earth, his breathing, hers, and the thunder of her heart the only wounds.

Just as before.

Just as she'd wished before…

Asch's hands slipped over her elbow. A miss, for he let it ghost down her arm with a grumble. He took possession of her hand without asking if it was alright; twining their fingers together and the like as if it was his right. A tug then, an unspoken command, and she shuffled over to where he stood.

"I think we've much to discuss, over lunch, in stronger light."

"I'd… I'd like that."

Surely he smiled, though there was distance and dark, she wasn't sure save she knew that he did.

"Truly?"

"Truly, sincerely, and with utmost speed, please."

He complied, pulling her along, and she followed. Still, he couldn't resist asking.

"Why the hurry?"

"I'm hungry."

He laughed at that, as did she, and leaving the dark, hand in hand, they laughed. Indulging in a moment of shared mirth. A clear rebuke to the bitter circumstance that had denied them such a thing before.

Surely Lorelei couldn't approve, but that scarcely mattered now. Nothing did, save one step after the other, and the dark they were surely putting behind them both.


	44. Chapter 44

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 44

Speaking with your mouth full

 

He took her to a Malkuthite establishment, a place so shrouded in blue that it bordered on chauvinistic. Or rather… desperate. It was as if by hue alone the owner of the place could muffle the blistering heat outside.

But it was Malkuthite, and that set her hackles on the rise. She being a Kimlascan (royalty no less) her grip on his hand tightened, and he smiled at that. He half turned to flash her a reassuring glance, then they pressed right along.

Or rather, he went forward, nearly dragging her behind.

It was an odd place. Outside and inside were marked only by canvas, the sun wise walls (east and west) were redoubled, the cloth thicker and darker. Tucked in the place where poles tangled and were bound by rope hung pans and pots, all dripping. A few secluded spans also had pots hanging from them, letting out a sedate drizzle, the "door" (a tent flap), also sported a massive pot. Going through it had given her an impromptu shower… well not really, that was giving the leak too much credit, but the surprise had set her gaze to looking up and wondering at the insanity of this place.

Wending past a puddle, Asch, in Luke's clothes, set her at a small round table away from the crowds and away from the pots. There were no chairs to pull out here, rather the "chairs" were padded posts that had been pounded into the dryer spots in the ground. Once sure she was situated he left her a little, picking his way past customers and the like to find the owner of this... place.

Alone, she looked about; blue was the theme not only of the walls but of the garb of those about her. Yes, while Malkuth's national colors were blue and silver, it seemed so odd to see the hues out in such force. But then, Kimlascan side, she'd been awash in familiar red and gold, so perhaps she had no right to complain.

She was wondering as to why color would be so important to these… commoners, when she spied a familiar flash of red on the return. Almost pinned down with an odd overlarge plate speckled with fruit, greens, and the like... (all generously wetted, droplets clung from both fruit and leafy greens in every which way imaginable) Asch was picking his way back to her.

Clearly this was going to be lunch.

Amused at the site of a God General so encumbered, she stood without knowing why. But her feet were wiser than the rest of her (or perhaps her heart was simply too tender) for to her own surprise she was moving towards him.

He started, realizing that she was coming towards him, opened his mouth to protest. But she simply ignored his babble and took the other half of the plate. Together, with minimal confusion as to who was holding what side and the like, they carried their meal to the table.

Once seated, the Bloody raised an eyebrow, but managed a curt "thanks" around his blush.

Grinning, not knowing why, Natalia shrugged at his awkward gratitude. The others, even Jade Curtiss, had found it odd, her eagerness to help. Luke had exploited it shamelessly from time to time –save when cooking was involved- having known her best.

Asch would learn, or he wouldn't. She almost hoped he wouldn't, she'd not degrade the man by saying this aloud but… He was a touch… cute… when he blushed like that. Face a near match for his red hair.

"When I was little I liked to help about the castle, it used to set Father off on such spectacular rows."

"I know."

Curious how he would know, but she didn't doubt him. Face slowly returning to its natural pallor, Asch snapped up a slice of bright orange melon. Nibbling it, savoring its chilled watery texture, he nipped with only her silence to accompany him for a while.

"Try some, you'll like it." The Bloody encouraged, when she seemed too shy to take some up for her own.

She protested, a childish thing, but route was hard to shake. "But… there aren't any forks or knives or…"

"You eat it with your hands. That's the civilized way to do things amongst the common." He took a deeper bite, the crisp fruit crunched under the assault. Then mouth full, tried to talk. "S' 'eally 'ood…"

Nervous, Natalia looked about. He wasn't the only one eating with his hands, and if it was the thing to do… Well, she'd try it.

Picking up a chilled bit of green fruit, or so the texture told it to be fruit, she'd never seen it's like before, she nibbled at the slice as he had. It was sweet, a touch tangy, and her genteel nip became a rather uncivilized bite after she'd had some time to take in the taste.

Asch of course started chuckling, and it was her turn to blush. She considered saying something about barbarians speaking with their mouths full, but that wasn't important. What was important was… Well the moment. Snapping up a piece of fruit he'd clearly been eyeing, she ate it before his startled eyes. His shock faded, and he laughed louder, of course.

Perhaps he found mirth in her bit of ruthlessness.

With a man as complicated as the Bloody, it was hard to discern the reasons behind his moods.

But the sound of his laughter was rather pleasing to the ear. Despite his grim, dour, slant, he knew how to laugh, and did it very well.

Laughs faded quickly as she took yet another slice of the fruit he liked best, a scowl (twitchy, but still it was a scowl) stole over his features.

"Stop hogging all the _honeighduwe_ , Natal." He whined, sounding a bit like Luke just then. He reached out and failed to save a scrap of the fruit Natalia had all but claimed for herself. There were some benefits to being fast, and hours of archery had honed the reactions of her hands to a razor edge. He didn't have a prayer, not one at all.

She considered sharing, for a moment, even as she horded the last two slices, fingers splayed over them, whole posture screaming _mine_ , in large capital fonic symbols and the like. He looked so pathetic, eyeing her take like a puppy being denied his favorite shoe to tear into.

She considered sharing, really she did, but after a moment decided against it.

Fair was fair after all. If he couldn't keep his mouth closed while he ate she was under no obligation to share. No matter how pathetic he tried to make himself look.

 


	45. What's First First

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 45

What's first, first.

To his credit, the Bloody was quite the thespian. She'd asked of course, how he'd become that way. And, to what others might have called audacity he encouraged her, nearly teased with his evasive actions that better wound her into his discourse. Still, aware of her shame (for upbringing was Score hard to shake) he tossed instruction between lines of his tale. Call it what it was, curiosity, and there was no sin in such a natural trait. Yes, there could be rudeness, tact fell before it from time to time, and she'd blushed thinking he rebuked.

Then, with a wry grin he set her fears aside with a shrug.

"There's no sin to curiosity, not a drop."

"So that's how you measure sin, by the gallon?"

He'd blinked then grinned, one of his Liger's grin. All teeth and brutality and cruel honesty jammed into one baring of teeth.

"Like wine? No, but let's say I was inspired." His eyes flicked up, inviting her to consider the pots and pans that dripped from their distant nests of intersection and rope.

Having already looked before, Natalia didn't waste the time for a second glance.

Sin dissected, they moved right along. First of rouse, they talked about Asch's change in wardrobe, and to her queries he'd woven a tale. Quite a tale actually "From Noir" he'd warned. "And considering it's from Noir you'd best take up a spoon of salt to balance it out". No Salt on hand she indulged in a Belkend delicacy of a ' _yanna_ , an odd yellow fruit whose thick hide had to be carefully pulled back least the tender length within blacken with bruises.

Shed split the tread, and Asch had broken off from his tale to eagerly wolf down his half. Not horribly fond of the pasty repast Natalia simply savored it as a bland counter to the surfeit of sweets she'd taken in earlier.

Noir's tale, via Asch, was obviously edited. The language cleaned a bit, but it was filled from start to end with absurdities. Daring misadventures heroically taken, disguises, foul ups, and near captures. The ending was a stirring flight (how flight could be stirring was beyond her, still Asch was so good at what he did and she would only doubt him many hours later while going over the more outrageous details in her evening bath) from irritated, tarred and feathered White Knights. The affair had ended in a spectacular race that had been half mad dash half elaborate prank that had crossed the width and breadth of the docks to the disorder of all. All to pull off a fantastic get away on an awaiting row boat.

And the reward for it all, a cache of stolen laundry which Asch had laundry and now wore, some silverware, and candlesticks.

Why candlesticks, Asch had shrugged to her question.

"It's an Urushi thing."

She decided not to ask further on that, and let it drop.

Spoon of salt indeed….

Still, she's laughed only half believing, and his smile had lost all its bite by tales end.

They breaked off from their chatter to more properly worry away at the pile of food before them. Fruit with a light syrup drizzle had been the platters crown, now that that was stripped away a more wholesome gathering of vegetables and the like awaited their perusal. _Cumbers_ and _Karots_ boxed in the choicer tidbits of steamed green flowerets (cooled with a drizzle of water but spoon worthy soft) and toes. The red bulbous _toes_ made her mouth water; she loved them snapping one up even as Asch looked on, laughing.

For the brave, coiled and curled, were threads of red and yellow, and vibrant green. By scent alone those were peppers, pressed against green and orange boxes like acidic embellishments. Even as Natalia munched on her taking Asch considered, then began a rather tiresome process of wiggling out a few large leaves of Endive lettuce from the bottom of the pile, the plates green frill, as it were. A gesture stopped Natalia's pillage, and for a while asch took a little of everything, spacing it out on a leaf that was larger than his own hand with all the fingers spread. Spacing everything just so, he pulled out a knife from the folds of his purloined coat and set to cutting and slicing, spreading his leaings on thie leaf just so.

So… while he did… whatever, she filled in the silence with chatter about the council and nobility of Batical. While they weren't _instantly_ important, for Goldberg and his war hawk cronies weren't going to step through the tent flap this moment after all, they _could_ be important later on. So she told him of them, and Asch looked up, green eyes meeting hers, assuring her he was paying attention by meeting her gaze at regular intervals.

He talked while vital was of later things, for matters once Akzeriuth was saved of course,, and while it was a technical violation of oath on her part, Natalia had to trust someone, so she trusted Asch.

Even as the man called Bloody handed folded and refolded his work. Neatly obscuring the various ingredients and producing a rather lumpish tube at labors end.

Questions teased her throat; still Natalia held her peace as Asch set his knife to his labor. One slice, a wet brisk "ssk" of the blade parting greenery, and Asch turned half of his efforts to her. An obvious offering.

Color and slivers peeked out from the gash, one red pepper curl lolled out like a disobedient tongue.

With a frown Asch commandeered her half, tucked pepper in with a poke, and offered it again.

It was a sandwich, one without bread or crust or meat. Curiosity from first to last, She took the half meant for her, took a bite, and while not exquisite it was good. Very good indeed.

She thanked him, he shrugged. Clearly the words "you're welcome" eluded him. Focusing on her meal Natalia decided between bites to not make an issue of something so small. First whipping his blade clean on the tables' edge, he sheathed it then settled to eating. Each motion was economic, quick, and with a certain military crispness she'd not of recognized had she not med the Colonel.

"How long have you been an oracle knight?"

"Seven years." A bite, he chewed. "Going on eight."

One face flickered in her mind. Luke had been kidnapped seven years ago, the tally going on eight….

She stopped that thought before it started. Yes, there were parallels, and similarities that should be, but it could wait. Would _have_ to wait.

Still, she couldn't resist on question.

"Your name, before they changed it-"

"Unimportant!" Asch snarled. Cutting her off with a tone so final it was redundant to try to catch the malice in mere words.

She considered getting huffy. He'd been rude and the dogged attention he was regarding his nearly empty plate said he knew he'd been rude as well. Perhaps he was even a tiny remorseful. Uncomfortable silence reigned, Asch picked up a slice of cumber, working out the seeds fro the plush vegetable, of all the silly things for a man to do.

He wasn't going to apologize. All the remorse in the world he wasn't going to back down. To do so would have left a four toe the uncomfortable and clearly taboo topic open. Natalia was enough of a diplomat to understand that, and enough of a good person not to pry on a matter so painful.

For now, at least. There may come a time when his pain was less important than truth, but that time was not now.

So she staged a rebellion of sorts, a coup de grace.

"That was cruel." Natalia criticized, choosing then to take a large bite. Green eyes were locked on her now, he dithered, conflict twisting his features from worry to remorse to guilt. She left him to stew for a little, or was that baste… whatever the saying was she savored every bite. And small as it was she enjoyed his response, taking delight that his barriers were down enough so she could read him at long last.

Swallowing, she dabbed her lips, and decided enough was enough. He was squirming now, waiting and braced for a well deserved rebuke form her.

How like a school boy he looked just then.

"Of your mother, I mean."

Concern worry and the like fled, he gapped at her,

"To name her first born "unimportant"." She elaborated then just in case he missed her point, he was a male after all, she elaborated. "I can't imagine the teasing you endured."

He laughed then one of his good laughs, soft and subtle. A small smile lingered on his lips at indulgences' end.

And in return for her sally, he tossed out a bit of truth.

"Only born. I've no sibs."

To that she responded in kind.

"Neither do I, though I've always wanted an older sister."

"Older?" He dug into one of Luke's pockets.

"Well, before anyone told me where.. you know." She blushed. "I was always nattering at Father to pick me up a sib at the market."

Search done Asch's fingers twinkled with gold. Coin gold, not illumination. Tossing a few gald on the table, the Bloody stood. Natalia followed suit, more than full, a mite worn, truth be told.

It had been a day.

Still he offered is arm and she took it up. More than content to follow his lead for a while.

"Tell me." Close as Luke had never been, fingers twined about hers as if it was his right, the man called Bloody Handed indulged in a quick peck before carrying on. "Have you ever seen Chesedona's grand plaza?"

No, she'd heard stories though. A dust span where everything was fo sale in all quantities. Where boundrieds of Kimlasca, Malkuth, Daath, and Chesedonia fell away. The plaza stood on the very border, there were no laws, and the wise said gald had a voice there. It talked loud and clear with metallic voices.

It sounded wonderful and horrible both.

"I do need some arrows, a new bow." For the last had been lost during the mad run to light. "Could you show me the way?"

Pushing aside the tent flap the world awaited them both. Nothing golden, merely a glaring white with a blistering undercurrent of heat that threatened to blot it all out. Refusing to relent his grip, never mind clime of the fact he knew that Luke never was this close, Asch wheeled her closer.

She nearly stepped on his toes, as they stepped out in the blinding light.

"What did you think we were doing?" He murmured in her ear.

To that Natalia smirked, knowing she shouldn't like being treated so, but enjoying it anyway.

No one had dared, or had cared enough, to treat her like this. And the feeling it brought made her more than a bit giddy. Telling the electric thrill racing up her back to go away, Natalia simply enjoyed the moment, shelving "wrong and right" for a time.

"I thought we were going to save the world." She bantered.

"Later, shopping first, saving later."

"I like how you keep your priorities on what's important."

To her sally the Bloody laughed.


	46. The Lion Killer part one

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 46

The Lion Killer part one

It was a dusty grey, like dull silver fragments form the work shop floor. Or… perhaps more princessly she should call it the down of soiled doves. Though drab and somber the string was strong, resistant, and the pull all but sang with suppressed power as she looped then drew all without arrows to avoid accident.

The quiver was full, matched perfectly with the bow in hue and style, and the woven top set over it kept the arrows in their proper place rather than them walking off in the hands of the passing opportunist. Her test done he'd shown her where to set the bow in place. Walked her through the loops and knots that bound arrow to the quiver's strap as if she were a rank amateur.

And in ways, he'd shown her that she was.

He'd bound and done all the knots himself, at first. Even tying the woven cap for her, then helping her strip off the weapon and its attendant accessories, he then ordered her to do as he had done all on her own. Methodically he'd tested each of her efforts, his final test ending with a vigorous tug that nearly unbalanced her. While he worked, and criticized, she caught her breathe, eyes shining as she recalled.

The plaza had been amazing, vibrant and loud and utter chaos.

No Score could contain its mad gyrations, and it had been _glorious_.

While undoubtedly corrupt (he'd caught five pickpockets making a stab at his wallet and Natalia was sure she'd of been divested of her own in moments had she still owned it). She'd spied and noted (between petty picking of pockets) corruption of a more serious slant. She'd been able to pick up skewed lines, flawed weights, leaden measures, and could have called a number of merchants out on it. There were no knights to serve as justicars, but surly, cheated customers could serve just as well. He'd halted her plans, a whispered conference and he'd been the one doing the calling out. His voice low, posture ominous, he was perfect study as to how one man could be dubbed "the bloody" all without drawing a line of red on anyone's hide.

Physically at least, he'd bullied and threatened the prices down, and he'd gotten his shopping and her's done with a generous sum left in his pocket after.

It might be cruel to say… they'd made a killing in that market… not literally of course, but in the figurative sense, they had. If pride was a pelt she could safely have replaced every chair in the royal palace with the leather of tanned merchant pride that day.

It had been fun, so much fun!

As for those who'd been honest but greedy, they'd cobbled together a little act. He played the harried escort, she the pinch penny nag. Between the sympathy his semi mute sufferings evoked and her wraith when the more stone hearted proved asinine…

She'd had far too much fun for a day! Wonderful honest fun! Her face hurt from holding back wide smiles. She all but sparkled despite her weariness, and for Asch he was very controlled, holding to his act better than she… But there was a glimmer amongst the green of his eyes that told tales.

Also, he hadn't been quite as controlled as he was now. Feigning exasperation at shop's end, he'd finally "snapped" and dragged her away. The sighs of those not skinned, and those who had been routed had nearly kicked up a dust storm. Or at least she'd thought it had.

Once safely out of sight of the stalls, the plaza a noisy memory at their back, he let her go. They'd been on the Malkuth side, blue stripes scarring the more downtrodden buildings. Clearly not amused, he glowered at her.

"Alright, we've got what we needed…"

"But Asch…" She whined.

"No!" He barked. "Enough!"

Mn!" Arms crossed, she pouted, stomping a foot for good measure. Royal dignity be hanged, she'd been having fun and he'd ruined it.

And, as if she'd said that aloud. "I noticed you were having fun." He assured, humored once more, he let his hand slide over her face, thumb stroking a familiar route. She calmed under the familiar caress, but clung to her sullen front for the sake of appearance with teeth and nails. Reading through her subterfuge he wound his free arm about her waist, then letting parcels and packages tumble to the dirt he looped his other arm about her too. "And... I did too, thank you."

He was close, holding her as if she were precious, smiling so sweetly. His breathe clung to her lashes, and excitement on the decline they felt so heavy. Her eyes slipped closed, just a moment then flared open as he leaned in and set his lips over hers.

It had been no child's kiss. No mere peck as his other kisses had been before. He teased open her mouth with his tongue, deepened the deadlock, and tasted the darkness of her mouth. Stiff with shock, she couldn't think, and responded with instinct as he relented enough so she could return the favor. Back and forth, heart racing, she followed his lead as he showed her a game of give and take. Utterly fair, they only broke enough on some unspoken signal to catch there breathe. He held her still, shaking hands stroking her back, traveling an intricate path about straps and quivers in the like, only pausing once for a moment, before continuing the circuit.

He cleared his throat, made to speak, face warm surely flushed.

She cut him off, forsaking matters of dignity and propriety with a force that made him start.

"Don't." Her voice was ragged. "Don't apologize, please don't."

So he didn't.

Hadn't.

And his taste lingered in her mouth, she licked her lips, her packs retrieved form where they tumbled and dusted off. She'd helped him with his as well, and for a moment it was toe two of them in center of the street carefully shunted off to one side least the passing by dragon carriage run them over. The buildings about her were stripped in blue; those she could spy over his shoulder were scarred with red. So close to the border they'd left the plaza, and form here they'd split paths.

For now, for a time.

So he'd promised, as had she.

"I'll be half a day behind, and I'll close the distance by Dao." He took a deep breathe then. "If you don't see me at the pass than something's gone wrong, and it'll fall on you."

The burden he set before her in that moment made the stuff in her hands air light in comparison.

"I.. I understand." Heaven help he if it came to that though. What could she do? Nothing so said Score, Lorelei. Her eyes hardened recalling Lorelei's final fate, and he looing on separated by the distance of perspectives, let his lips quirk into a lean grin.

"Don't kill anyone if you can help it." He chided, much like a man would scold a child for not sharing with a sibling or something. "But if you need to, you have my express permission to shoot Luke in the ass if that's the only thing that'll slow him down."

While it was tempting, especially when he was being a pain in said region… she giggled, shook her head. "I'll cook for them instead."

"Poison's chancy," he warned obviously misconstruing her intent.

She decided now was not the place to explain. "I'll be careful."

Her exploits in the culinary would remain a blissful mystery, at least until she cooked for him, if that ever happened. Unlikely but still… perhaps… if… well hopefully she'd improve by then.

Still, he worried. "Where did you learn how to poison someone, it's not part of a noble's normal repertoire?"

She shrugged. "What was your real name, I forgot?"

About them people wended, so busy with their own affairs they never noticed the silence between them both. The shadows were long, lengthening, and her planned two hours had swiftly become six, or perhaps seven. In short, she'd… well _they'd_ … lost track of the time.

Encumbered, he bowed, as best he could. Conceeding her point, respecting her wishes.

"Farewell, your highness." A chuckle slipped past hiss lips, caress soft, kiss tender. "Sleep well."

Unlikely that, but still the gesture had been kind.

"You too."

Green eyes considered her, all was clearly said and done but she didn't want to leave. Rem would not go back though, not for one girl, no matter her perceived import. Day was on the decline, and the shadows were deepening as night neared. All was said and done, and he didn't want to leave. Though duty and the like beckoned him to far flung roads, and the idea of another nap sung a seductive song to his weary soul. When he folded to the last, he wondered. Would he have a dreamless sleep, dark and deep?

Unlikely, very much so… still he could hope.

"Your friends are probably worried about you." Asch reminded her softly.

"So are yours."

Touche. Green eyes canted to the side, Asch studied real with a contempt that the hard headed held for the fancy.

"I'll see you at Dao, the latest." Natalia promised. Binding him without realizing, there was no way he could get out of this now. No way to defer this to another. "Till then?"

"Till then." Rasped whuffs and grunts heralded the coming of another dragon carriage from behind. Bells rang madly and a familiar reek made her cringe. Asch, looking beyond her nodded, clearly he'd been keeping the time in his head and this met some internal schedule. Firm, though gentle, he ushered her to one side, a building at her back she could see the grey, long legged, monstrosities puffing down the street. Most about her followed suit, but Asch once sure she was settled he broke away, flitting out into the serpentine beasts' path.

"You there! Fifty gald if you take me to the outer edge of the Kimlascan province!"

Serpentine neck arched, the beast slowed, but did not stop, veering a little so not to run over the would be customer.

"Two hundred!" Asch hollered.

To that the man stopped, dust billowing out at the sudden halt to stain Asch's off white coat in billowing brown.

"Two hundred?" Came a voice from up high, some querulous thing belonging to a man swathed in Daathic black.

"No questions asked!"

"Two fifty then!"

"Deal!" Pulling a pouch from Luke's pocket Asch tossed it up, the man, weary as most were, began to count the coins then and there.

From behind, came a sound familiar and just as unwelcome as the dragon's approuche had been.

"Naataaliaaa!"

Anise!

Asch's eyes widened in recognition, ripping open the door, he tossed his packs in, bundled himself in.

"Five hundred more if you go, now!" The Bloody roared, and never mind he was _in_ , his voice carried well.

That was enough for the driver, with a crack of a whip he got the scared beasts to moving, and they were off.

"Heeey!"

Biting her lip, Natalia fought temptation. For one moment she wished she had joined, there'd been a precious span where she could have broken free and… Then Anise hit, a comet of flying pink uniform and pigtails. Latching onto Natalia's waist the fon master Guardian swung from where her hands were firmly latched.

Nearly loosening the bow Asch had christened "Lion Killer" upon purchase.

"Where've you been, it's been ages!" Anise wailed.

And to that, Natalia forced a smile, looked down into dear brown eyes.

"Busy." She answered in all truth. "Shopping." She elaborated.

"Boo, like that answers anything!" the girl groused.

 


	47. Lion Killer part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweat drop… this came from a paragraph from my notes… one paragraph and I've eight pages to go… Ah well, it'll get done when it gets done. Here's another piece of the Lion Killer segment. Flashback heavy this time.

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 47

Lion Killer part 2: Keeping pace

.

She'd picked up the bow, smiling wide like a child on winter's heart gifting. Plucking the string, she listened to that one toned melody, and while not pristine, or perfect, it was a pleasant sound. Setting her cheek against the arch of steel and wood, she didn't quite purr, though her eyes did scrunch up a mite. She simply savored the texture and coolness of the shaded steel for a moment, more than content to set it down without the buy and with only a little regret to twinge in her heart thereafter..

Indulgent, Asch smiled. Discarding the game and its attendant role he stepped about her, snapping one hand over her wrist which had begun its descent, bow in a loosening hold. She tightened her grip at his unspoken rebuke.

Taking the fore he pulled open his pouch and tossed gald on the startled shop keeper's counter. More than enough for the purchase with a generous bonus besides.

Eyes wide, Natalia moved to protest, the bow and its attendant accessories were expensive. Not beyond her usual means, but running a host of charities and the like had introduced her to the idea of a budget. Experience on the road had hardened her to poverty. For the funds available to this group consisted of the Colonel's last stipend –a sum he never discussed, merely stating it was _adequate_ -, the ghost of Guy and Anise's last pay, and the gald she and Luke had on them when they' slipped away. (Alight _she_ had slipped away, _he'd_ been whisked, but technicalities were not for that moment!)

At times food was hard enough to come by, she could not… could _never_  
repay him…

"Will…" Eyes wide, the merchant looked first to the gald scattered on his table than at Lu- Asch, at last setting his beady eyes upon her. "Will that be all, sir?"

"More than enough." Asch murmured, then shifting his grip he turned her about and they began to walk away.

Still shocked, she tried to say… or at least force out something like… but she shouldn't. Nobles' weren't supposed to be beholden to any other save their king, and a king was to be reliant on none save Lorelei himself.

Understanding, only as he could, the Bloody chuckled. "It's alright. Upbringing is hard to work around sometimes. I understand. And, you are welcome. Think of it as an expression of my thanks."

"For what?"

He looked back, then, leading her own he favored her with a glimpse of his face a flash of his green eyes. Whatever the expression held, was a mystery for her. She'd only begun to touch the surface of this man called Asch, and there were depths she'd probably never see, only guess at.

Still, if the smile was any indication he appreciated her efforts, found humor in them.

"Let's say…" Lips quirked, he turned away, resuming his act, or so it seemed. " _dearest,_ is that we've places to go and things to do and I wasn't in the mood for haggling against a man who was cheating himself already."

She stopped, aghast. "He was _undercharging_!" Her mind reeled at the idea of the worth of the item slung about her shoulders.

"Yes, now please close the cap on the quiver. We've other things to get and I don't want to have to go back to buy more arrows. Noir's list of "to do" is almost three pages long, damned if I know what's vital or not, but I know I won't be able to cover for it all. Hell if I even know what _this_ is."

His hand slipped from her arm, there was a rustle of paper as he consulted something. For a moment she was content to wait, wait to see where he'd take them next and just tag along.

Then, recalling other places, and the time she'd tamely gone along with the drive of another (or… rather an _other_ ) and the calamity it had cost… She shivered, and he felt it though there was some distance between them both. Looking up form a sheet of pages, the Bloody considered her, but didn't say a word, but the concern was obvious. Checking the motion, Natalia slipped close instead, nestled her chin against Asch's shoulder to most comfortably consider the list in his hand.

Noir's handwriting took "Cheagle scratch" to whole new levels, traveling with a Chegale, having read some of his "journal" entries from purloined spans of Luke's notebook; Natalia was something of an expert on that topic.

That, and another as well.

"It reads _moon day supplies_." Natalia translated, face squinting up as she considered the second, looped and jagged span. " _Two weeks worth_."

Odd that one woman would stock up on that. But perhaps shopping sprees were few and far between for wandering thieves.

"Oh." Asch blinked. "Um, well, thanks."

Curiously no embarrassment about what he was buying, rather a faint shame that he couldn't read the woman's handwriting, interesting that. Licking her lips, the princess hazarded.

"I've... need to get some of those materials myself, for… just in case…"

"That's fine, but where would we get stuff like that?" The Bloody asked, showing beyond a doubt, considerate abnormalities aside, he was very much a victim of his own gender.

 _Typical male_. Natalia fought that response, grinned instead. "Actually, I was just looking for that place myself before Noir accosted me."

"Noir, accosted _you_?" Asch's tone was warmed with amusement.

"M hm, you might say she all but charmed me into taking the back route into your umm... present abode?"

Seeing her attempt to pry, Asch shook his head, it was after all a rather transparent ploy.

"And Largo had nothing to do with it, hm?" Asch bantered, tipping his head enough so that his red hair tickled the back of her neck, the side of her face. "You weren't on the run from a God General or anything?" He teased, recalling her to the truth.

"He had about as much influence on me going there just like how Sync had absolutely _nothing_ to do with you being in the shed in the first place."

Blow for blow, tit for tat, they kept pace with each other wonderfully.

Eyes riveted on the list before him the Bloody smirked, not reading a word before him. "You know, speaking of Largo…"

Natalia broke off her near cuddle that looked hither and yon, seeking that familiar flash of silver hair, dreading the black scythe's descent even now.

"That bow of yours," Asch clarified, drawing out each fact in his play. "That you picked up just now."

Her glare recalled him to aching shins, they weren't his the first time, but the blow smarted enough through the link to tell him how hard she could hit. So he winced a bit, anticipating another such "rat" to be lashed out at any second now. For safety's sake he shied away from the range of her feet, she was wearing rather sturdy boots and all; he didn't want to find out how sturdy they were first hand.

Second hand had been bad enough.

"Steel bows are nicknamed Lion Killers in these parts, you know.

To that, she started, rage flickering to something like sickness. "I… that's awful, Asch!"

"I suppose it is." Still he smiled, awful or not. "But it's fitting, in a way. And, anytime you get scared of him-"

_A hulking figure in the dark, towering, powerful, brutal, cruel, silver and black steel, one blow, flight unintended, a skidding fall across harshest earth…_

"-or anyone, know you're well equipped to deal with... whatever needs to be dealt with."

"I…" Hesitance, an instance recalled. Her arrow had been pointed at his chest, what would have happened had she been holding this bow instead of her own? Horrible things, she was sure, such a powerful weapon as he'd gifted her could not be held back. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

He nodded. "I didn't either, but I had to. I... I hope that it never gets to the point that you have to make the same choice I did. But I have little faith in hope or any would be divine mercy." His smile turned biter, the paper seemed see-through. For him there was nothing of worth in what he held in his hands.

"Auldrant's not kind, Nat. Not a kind place at all."

_Welcome, oh child… to Auldrant…_

He shivered, slightly, perhaps recalling something from the distant past. Some horrible thing…

"Call me Natal." The princess murmured. Then, leaning close, making a brazen show of public affection as she was not supposed to do, she rose above her own upbringing. Twining her fingers between his, he started at the unexpected contact, the papers slipped free. "I like it better when you call me Natal."

"Whatever you say."

He tightened his grip, turned her motion of comfort to an embrace that spanned the whole of their hands.

Neither thought of the list for a while, he trapped in shock, she amused by her own audacity, when they thought of them again they were gone. Swept up and whisked away by the threading of an indifferent crowd.

XXX

Eyes a flutter, close and friendly, Anise made her smile go as wide as it was worth. All in all it was a perfect match to the stuffie that clung to her shoulders.

"Sooo, where'd you get it?"

"It?" Natalia murmured, face flushed.

"You know! That bow and arrow set, it's really neat, and look there!"

Natalia felt a tug, there was a hiss, and a blade was worked free from the folds of the quiver. Cunningly hidden, not set there by her hand. She recalled Asch's parting caress, the track his hand had traced up and down her back before… Well before Anise and duty, and the real world had interrupted.

It was a dull blade, the hilt a tarnished silver, the straight edge alluded to a Daathic weapon smith being the source of her quiver's addition. After all, the blade was straight, single edged. Kimlascans favored spartan double edged swords, and Malkuthite blades were a fantasy of arches and arcane runes.

"That's so cool. And smart! I didn't think you were _sneaky_ Natalia!" The young guardian sing-songed.

To that back handed compliment Natalia smiled, shrugged.

"I like to surprise people, sometimes."

 


	48. Lion Killer part 3

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 48

Lion Killer part 3

Grip a memory, Anise studied the ward she was leading back to the inn. Her scrutiny was masked with sunny smiled and quick looks back. It had been fun, this oversized version of hide and go seek, but Anise's surge of joy in her successful "finding" was on the decline.

Because, though Natalia smiled, and nodded in all the right places, there was something off… Not wrong, but distracted.

And that was nothing like the mono minded princess she'd come to know… and hesitantly to like, despite her being a Kimlascite and all.

Whipping about in a swirl of pink uniform, purple frilled cassock flapping, the Fon Master Guardian decided enough was enough, so armed with a smile that made Tokunagua's seem small, she stopped. It took Natalia nearly stepping on the girl to bring her back from… wherever. And though Anise was short, she wasn't _that_ short.

"Natalia, are you alright?"

"Fine… I'm fine…"

His taste lingered even then. The texture of his gloves holding her in the dark set her skin to tingling. And set a telltale blush to stroking her cheeks gave her away. Was she fine, hardly that. Still, she swallowed and tired to ignore how the mere remembrance of his lips over her own set her heart to pounding. How the ghost of his scent made her want to shiver, to close her eyes and savor that sense in the private dark behind her lids…

Another memory, perhaps inspired by the dark inherent in her last thought. Sensation, wistful fancy opened up a vile box best left sealed. A life lived, her life ended, blush became pallor. She shivered, and chocolate hued eyes saw that, and darkened with obvious concern.

"You suuure?" Anise chirped, and never mind the expression of her gaze, she smiled sugar sweet and her wide as ever.

"Oh, yes…" She blinked; the taste of miasma filled her mouth, banishing the not so secret warmth the memory of his touch had summoned. "I'm fine."

"So, where did you go shopping?" Anise wheedled, applying charm and questions in equal does.

"At a stall."

Arms crossed, face twisting in a little scowl, the fon master guardian glowered. "Like that tells me anything!" She flared.

To that Natalia smirked, a rather Asch worthy baring of teeth, and was content to let it go at that. Stepping about the fuming guardian, she looked around, and though the gloom was deepening to near night proportions she was almost positive she recognized the street. Pressing right along, she went on her way, and the scrape of shoes on stone and sand informed her Anise was struggling to catch up.

"You.. you know.." Anise puffed, and to that Natalia slowed her steps, allowing the girl some time to weave through the indifferent crowd. ""The... Colonel... wanted to leave ages ago."

The later came slower, Anise breathed easier now that Natalia wasn't almost running. Her walk slowed to a regal pace that screamed "I'm important" all unknowing. And while that was a relief for the girl's legs, the abstract look in the woman's eyes was worrisome all on its own.

"We'll have to stay the night you know, and he won't be happy and…"

And clearly Natalia wasn't listening. Natalia nodded, feigned contrition, but after that… nothing. She smiled blankly, her heart so obviously elsewhere the fon master guardian could have recited nursery rhymes and Natalia would not have noticed.

He'd held her, cherished her, a man who was yet was not Luke fon Fabre. Then, there was Asch, snatching her from living nightmare made terrifying upon wakening because it might just be. He'd held her tight, not as tight as that other Luke had, but he'd cherished her not as… as a thing... a promise made flesh and blood, but as a person. Held her close as he'd obviously held all that was his own… but the telling difference was intent. She was a person in his eyes, where the other Luke had held her as a possession. Furthermore, most telling of all, was one fact. He was counting on her.

She'd not let him down.

Shelving thoughts of Asch (who was in turn sweet and terrifying, bitter and kind, bestowing cruelty and benediction and calling both truth) and his friends (the thieves, associates, _whatever's_ … they lingered like living distractions in her attempts of serenity, they were splashes of color vibrant blue, vivid red, and clashing, ever clashing viewed from the edges of sight) she decided she have all night after dinner was done to pull them off of the shelf and paly with the thoughts and wonders they inspired in her.

Asch and his friend would have to wait. Dao would be enough for now.

"Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb…"

Oh dear, was her distraction… had it been _that_ obvious?

"His fleece was light as snow, and on Scored date, to market did Mary and her little lamb go…"

"I _am_ awake, Anise." Natalia snapped, sounding a tad too churlish perhaps. For Anise hopped, though in her mind, had he been here, she was sure Asch would have smiled.

"Now you are!" Anise tossed back, not the least bit phased after her little hop of shock. "Really Natalia, you act like you're thinking about a guy and and…"

And Natalia's blush was back, and Anise's eyes went so wide they nearly rolled from their sockets.

"Oh.. My.. Yulia Jue! You met a guy! A cute guy who's not Guy! Where is he, I wanna meet him!"

Oh bother… today looked to be trying, very trying indeed. Having walked right into that one Natalia wasn't quite sure how to get out. Well, lips twisting into a wry smile, Natalia assured herself. She could make a speach, a story was a kind of speech, right? Right. She'd be fine.

So, with that assurance Natalia pressed along, slinging one arm about the girl's shoulders to pull her along she gave a highly edited version of her day.

And she let the lies (such new, bitter things) fall where they would.

 


	49. Lion Killer part 4

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 49

Lion Killer part 4: Cultural emphasis 

Tales told, lies seeded, Natalia breathed easier when Anise fell under the force of her story. The girl grinned, laughing where it was right, and the inn and it's familiar door sang a song of awaiting reprieve for the princess' aching feet. Forcing her weary feet up a half familiar path, Natalia tried to ignore how tired she was. She spent her attention to where it was needed. To roles and tales, and the half-truths seeded throughout. Furthermore Natalia was very careful to pay attention to Anise, despite how tiring the girl's exuberance was at this point.

"And, after Guy stopped yowling he kind of twitched then fell over wheezing, that's when Luke chased me and Tear out. Tear trying to cure his Gynophobia with a fonic hymn and all. Anyways as we were running out, the Colonel pulled me aside and asked me to go looking for you."

"Really?" Considering how Jade had all but chased her out, _that_ came as a shock.

"Well, actually he said," And there Anise stopped, in the little yard of dust before the inn. Arms primly tucked behind her back, smile teased until it seemed strained, the girl mimed pushing up nonexistent glasses with a digit. "Anise, perhaps you'd best put your energies to a more constructive pursuit than torturing _poor_ Guy."

Dropping her _Jade Act_ , the girl twirled about, indicating a change of roll with a spin, when facing Natalia again she batted her eyelashes in a becoming flutter and flashed Natalia a winsome smile she surely bestowed upon Malkuth's pride and joy.

"Whatever did you mean, Colonel?" Her sing song made Natalia's smile widen, and to that encouragement Anise tried and failed to capture Jade's dead pan.

The brunette's twitching lips spoiled the effort.

"There is a certain girl of Kimlacite bend that seems to have wandered off, and I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to retrieve her."

" _Kimlascite_?" Natalia flared.

To that Anise shrugged. "It's what he said, Kimlascite, Kimlascan, while the other sounds prettier…" She left it hanging.

One quick look about confirmed what Natalia had hoped for. None seemed to hear their chatter. The traffic was mainly home bound in this span of town, and those with other things on their minds made the worse eavesdroppers. Sure they were safe Natalia drew Anise close.

"Anise." Startled by the no nonsense tone in the princess' voice the fon guardian looked up, her dark brown eyes wide, face a study of perplexity. "You don't ever call a Kimlascan a Kimlascite!"

"Hm? Why not, it's just another name, like Malkithite, Malkuthain, Daathian, Daathite, Ches-"

The hand snapped over her mouth, a royal hand sheathed in archers gloves startled the girl so much she didn't protest the rude motion. Sure the girl wasn't going to keep up her babble, Natalia let Anise go. Seeing the potential explosion in Anise's flushed face and the snarl twisting the girl's mouth, Natalia rushed to explain.

" _Sye_ , or congregated _cite_ , it means _death too_ , or _hate_ , in ancient Ispanian. When you add that to a nominative, or the name of a country you're cursing them in the holy tongue."

Recalling her ancient Ispanian, Anise's eyes widened, realization hit home and she paled.

"In the last war," Natalia explained. "Such was hollered across the fields of every battle, and not enough time between then and now exists to have mended the wounds."

The girl a least had the grace to flinch.

And to that, she had to make amends. She hadn't meant to be the cause of even this minor an agony, and though it was unScored and a sacrilege all its own, Natalia could not bear to be the source of another's pain. She was never meant to be kind, after all.

But, that didn't matter. The Score, it honestly didn't matter anymore.

There was a comfort in that. A relief.

Reaching out, winding an arm about the girl's shoulders, Natalia tried a few steps, and Anise, sunk in a more somber mood allowed herself to be lead along.

"So, tell me, did Guy truly scream the paint off the walls in the hall when you hugged him?"

Anise's answering smirk was answer enough, but not satisfied with merely smirking the girl launched into a vivid and grotesquely exaggerated description of her "move" on Guy. And though the timing was a touch premature, Natalia laughed softly throughout the tale. Between Noir, Asch, and Ansie she was all but surrounded by thespians, and here she thought priests and diplomats were supposed to be the greatest deceivers in this Score bound world!

And thinking of bounds… well she was in luck of a sort. She had a key and clear vision and was more than ready to work off the chains. Patting her quiver, setting the arrows within to jangling and feeling the chill touch of steel secure, Natalia smiled and laughed as she was not supposed to.

Manners and Score and the like holding her back and all, or at least they were supposed to.

Smiling wide at that thought of such a demure rebellion actually having an impact, Natalia scaled her chuckling up to a steady laugh, and that set Anise off in a gale of hoots.

"Seriously, I'm not lying! The paint fell off in sheets, and the glass just "boom!" flew out the windows!"

Not a glint of glass was scattered about the sands, taking the steps to the entryway, Anise leaned against the princess, forgetting perhaps just who Natalia was.

"You know, for a Kimlascan, you aren't bad."

"Well, for a Daathian, you aren't bad either." Natalia confided.

To that Anise sniffed, feigning hurt. Her grin dampened that effect, and Natalia watched as the girl pulled out a key to the inn. The key had dangled from a chain about the girl's neck, it's links hidden by a pink and purple cassock that marked her as a fon master guardian. Clearly, this late at night, any outbound patrons were given keys to get in and out of the premises.

Considering all the theft she'd seen in the plaza Natalia wasn't too surprised.

"Heey, are you trying to get some diplomatic advantage here, or are you actually being nice?" Anise whined, more at the door than at the princess, more than a mite distracted by her efforts in getting the stubborn key _in_.

"Not at all." Then, though it had been a day, Natalia stepped forward to help. Guiding the girl's hands to the key found the proper slot. Once click, a turn of the knob –their hands overlapped-, and the door squeaked opened. "Just because I'm a princess doesn't' mean I can't be nice." Natalia rebuked in the last sane moment.

One click, and the knob stopped fighting, and the others waited beyond the wash of light. Though rustic, the color of the fon stone illumination had been tinged to appear natural. A wash of gold and red spilled out form the rectangular opening. It was the gold that made Natalia shudder, but Anise, rushing forward to the waiting Colonel squealing "I found her! See, see, I did I did!" Stole the attention of Colonel, and Guy, and Tear. Tear nodded a quiet greeting, Guy grinned and waved, and Jade was all but smothered in Anise's attentions and embrace couldn't get out a word.

"See! See! I found her, I win, you owe me twenty gald, Colonel!" Anise insisted, Tokunagua and the girl were clearly having a smiling competition, and Jade's trademark smirk and glimmering red eyes declared the winner without telling a soul.

"So you did." Jade drawled, looking up, setting a soothing hand on Anise's head, the Colonel lifted his gaze. "Though I don't." Anise booed, but that was all. "Good _evening,_ your highness."

And the last player of this show opened his mouth. Shrouded in white, demon insignia in full attendance on his mended coat, Luke fon Fabre leaned against the lobbies distant wall, green eyes dark and sullen. "Geeze, Nat. You took forever! What the heck happened?"

"I… I was-"

Then, a savior all unexpected, Ion spoke. "I imagine you're famished, please… Would you join us for dinner? Tear has just finished ordering us a meal."

Taking what came her way, Natalia smiled. "Dinner sounds wonderful, thank you."


	50. Two Sided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Jade interaction , he's hard to keep in character, and som Anis banter. I press the edges of thier character but then though favorites of mine I find Jade and Anise very difficult to write. Two more chapters to go.

Flicker of Judgment 

Chapter 50

Two sided

The others were pleased to see her, and though some concern was evident (mainly from Guy, Ion and Anise) she deflected it with a highly edited, slightly fabricated, summation of the day's events. Unlike her story with Anise she didn't mention "the cute guy" she'd ran into while shopping, but then, they really didn't need to know that part.

Anise's winks over dinner told her that the others would hear of "him" soon enough.

And, thus per her promise, she mentioned nothing of Cardinals or the dark dreams they hatched, doing nothing and saying nothing that would cast dark wings over the group's rather sunny dinner.

Clustered about the long table, a long wooden atrocity that probably dated back from the dark age, they were scattered along it's sides, haphazard without a care for rank or protocol. The blue clad Colonel dinned besides Tear who was in the act of asking her superior, the holiest man on Auldrant, to pass the sugar, please. Heir to Kimlasca's throne, her betrothed Luke, was teasing Anise about being such a baby and did she _have_ to feed Tokunagua, he _was_ stuffed, you know, and…

And it seemed the concern she'd caused was long forgotten.

Sipping water, from an overlarge glass cup she thought of other dinners, and smiled.

_How was your day, father? Mine went well, tribulations aside. You know, you've always taught me to hold the world apart. To be distant. And whenever I asked why you just told me that such a thing was proper. But did you know, I'm happy here?_

Smile widening, she leaned forward, caught the impulse to reach out next to her jumpy neighbor and settled for asking instead.

"Guy, could I have the salt, please?"

If she concentrated hard enough, she could ignore how his hand trembled, could focus on his watery smile instead and pretend it wasn't so weak.

"Thank you."

Forcing back his terror, Guy nodded. "You're… welcome…"

Dinner went off without a hitch. It was when the last sweets that the Chesedonian's called "desert" were passed out that things grew… choppy.

Jade smiled throughout his meal, refraining from comment and banter, a distinct oddity for him considering how vigorously Anise was egging him on. Crimson eyes flicked on her as he ruminated on _something_. The Colonel twirled his slew of fruit and ice shaving round and round, eventually making quite a stew of his treat and not taking so much as a bite.

Standing, with a careful half step back so not to jar the bench and those about him the Colonel nodded to them all.

"I've had… quite a day-" He smiled then, as if at some secret joke, bronze buttons and crimson eyes flashing in the pseudo "fire" light. "I hope you'll all excuse me?"

And, thus commandeering an excuse Natalia herself had made the day before –and therefore denying her the right to use it- Colonel Jade Curtiss made his was out of the common room, all but quick marching to the bedroom span of the inn. All in all it was quite the reversal of roles, and nibbling on her treat, Natalia had to wonder what it meant, if anything.

Oblivious to the princess's worries, Anise kicked up a gossip session, alluding quite smugly that she knew what the Colonel was exhausted from.

Natalia didn't even touch the bait of that statement. But, surprisingly enough, Tear did. Or rather, she'd innocently asked a question about what one of Anise's words meant, the explanation that had followed was hair rising and graphic. Yes, while Anise was worldly and was supposed to be as a fon master guardian, it went well beyond the bounds of propriety for a thirteen year old to even _know_ about much less _talk_ about… Natalia's cheeks burned, Guy's eyes bugged, and Tear's face was fast becoming a good match for Asch's hair.

The fact that the girl would talk about… _that_ … in public, no less! And while the room was all but deserted save or their group and a few servants… employees… whatever… it was wrong. Natalia snapped to her feet, never mind if she jarred the bench or it's occupants.

Anise was clearly warming to her topic, and there were some things that the princess really didn't want to know about. Anise was clearly in the mood to discuss them in detail, and Natalia just didn't' want to be there, so she took steps to extract herself. Muttering an incoherent excuse, she took a careful step over the backless bench, and was well on her way out, halfway to the door, when Guy made a decision.

He stood; face matching Luke's hair and darkening to be a good match for Asch's.

"I… Umm… I'm gunna… go do… something not here!" The servant yelped. "Come on Luke!" He tagged on the last, casting a half desperate look upon Natalia then on his Master as a silent reminder.

Luke, taking advantage of Guy's absence to sprawl, grunted. He was comfortable, Tear was blushing, an the chat wasn't so bad that he was going to run away. Not while he was comfortable and all.

"Luke?" Guy prodded.

"Hunh? Oh, yeah, go ahead, I wanna stick this out." Anise's giggle was more than a little naughty at Luke's word choice. "And see how red Tear can get!"

"You… You are such a brat, you know that!" The Scorer in question snarled.,

Ion, innocent as always, was too busy ripping off leaves of the varied greens from dinner and feeding them to a chirpy Mieu. Both Cheagle and fon master were too occupied to hear a word.

Reaching the door she snatched it open, slammed it shut, and left the obscene chatter behind.

Hands fisted, she stalked to her rooms, ripped _that_ door open…

And seethed: If _this_ was the reception she was going to get, she was hard pressed to wonder why she bothered to come back-

And forgot to slam it closed. The force of her wrenching it open though was enough. It smacked into the wall with enough force to make an ordinary person jump.

Far from ordinary, Jade Curtiss of the third division inclined his head. The gesture of tame greeting more suiting a quiet hello exchanged in the hall. Tranquil as could be, he flicked his fingers, and the threads of red licked about his digits winked out. Snapping shut the book that had rested in the hand that did not burn Jade considered her, then flicked his gaze to the still open door.

"Close that."

No courtesy this time, or even a nod. She remained in place, stood her ground; some unnamed dread set her heart to slamming against her ribs. Licking her lips and never mind repast and time, his taste and scent teased her. Like a ghost her… betrayal… her remembrance of a time she never mentioned summoned guilt and was made of shame. Still, Natalia looked to the Necromancer and held her ground.

"I'd prefer this not get loud." Jade murmured.

"Leave, now." She ordered, a whisper that, she'd humor him for this one moment.

Red eyes thinned, clearly he was not used to being disobeyed. He stood, then, the chair, her chair, scrapped against the wooden floor. His spear wasn't in hand, but that meant nothing considering that a thought could summon it. She'd seen it before, and had no doubts that if she threatened him, or pushed him too far that he'd summon that spear.

All with his trademark smirk.

And, insane as before, he restarted a conversation a day old.

"We've something to talk-" He began.

And an old anger and new melded into an intoxicating brew. She shivered, hands fisted once more. "We've _nothing_ to speak of!" Natalia hissed. "Get out of my room or so help me I'll scream until someone comes!"

He paused at that, head tipped to the side, crimson eyes glimmering in the fading light. Pitting stance against character, tenor against tone, and tally complete he grimaced, not liking the sum at all. Still, he nodded, believed, and that was enough for now. He paced about her, and she shied to one side so he could leave.

And that's how it seemed tame and reasonable, until that last second. Faster than a bow shot he snatched at her quiver so fast she could not think to stop him much less move to do so. With a steely rustle a knife was pulled out form the folds.

Silver gleamed in the moonlight, glistened as if it were pure.

"Yours?" He murmured, rolling the hilt over in his hands, obscuring the patterns of the blade with his gloved fingers. "Or a gift?"

She said nothing, simply glowered, the door way so cramped she could feel his humming as well as hear it. Musing to himself, he rolled the blade in his hands, admired the edge then studied the blunt half. He waited, so close she could have taken a fraction of a step and been in his arms.

Not that he was braced for an embrace, rather he waited for confession, for her to concede that he had a right to all her doings and that she must inform him of all she knew.

Hell would freeze over then, she'd let it before she gave this… Malkuthite the satisfaction.

"Interesting…" He pursed to himself. "Unblemished steel here…" A flick of his wrist a half-toss to himself and he bared the hilts other half. "Daathic, forging, unlike your bow which is Chesedonian" said bow was digging painfully into Natalia's back, but she blinked back the stinging behind her eyes and waited. "A clear mismatch, couldn't you get a matched set?"

Gritting her teeth Natalia said nothing, and the Necromancer took advantage of their proximity to box her in. One arm, knife wielding, snapped through the air. With a "thunk" blade bit into the wooden door frame, mere centimeters from Natalia's face. So close was the strike the hilts humming irritated her cheek.

Fingers spread about the shivering weapon, Jade smiled, leaned close, crimson eyes a mystery.

"Hardly yours, well beyond your means since I know how much gald you have.. .or rather _had_ … down to the last coin."

She didn't start, simply waited, meeting his eyes.

"Who were you with today?" He growled the words, and the malice in his down set her to shivering.

Still, she said nothing.

"What did you do?"

The hand by her head fisted, he tugged her hair when he did so. That was an accident, because he shifted a bit, fist loosening so that her hair could slither free before slamming the re-clenched hand into the frame. Trying to jar something, even a squeak, out of her.

For once the first word came out, others would follow, and he needed those words.

"Come now, my dear, don't you trust me?"

Licking her lips she shook her head, and to that Jade leaned back, allowing her to breathe. His smile returning, wide and hollow as were all his smiles.

"You were told not to, or taught not to?" The Necromancer murmured, smug for his victory was in sight. She'd folded once, she'd fold again he was sure, and all those answers her silence denied him would tend themselves any moment now.

"In this, I can't."

"Why?" He pressed. "Did a certain God General tell you not to, the Bloody Handed?"

"No, Lorelei did."

His eyes went wide at that, he pulled back, face placid, stupefaction making the shivering of his crimson eyes slow, than die.

" _What_?"

"I'm not supposed to trust you, because that's what Lorelei wants. No one's supposed to trust you, or care, and… we're not supposed to be here, you, me, anyone. We aren't supposed to be here."

His mouth opened closed, his eyes were wide, his face pallid. Never had anyone shocked Jade Curtiss so. The honor, while unlooked for, was a dubious one at best.

As had other honors been this day.

Eyes closed, Natalia cringed into herself, shivered. Cold but not, sacred but standing. "I'm tired Jade, really really tired… I just want to go to bed."

Had she opened her eyes she could have seen Jade's gaze turn thoughtful, the hard lines of his face ease.

"I imagine you are your majesty. I won't deny you the right to rest, but I will demand at a later time an explanation, a detailed one. If I concede to you in this, it's with the understanding that you will concede to my wishes later on."

Boots clopped down the hall; there was only one way to all their rooms. By tread and grumbles it was Guy swearing to himself that Luke was an idiot. Cursing the door for catching the split tail of his servant's uniform. Natalia's eyes flared open and Jade pulled a little closer, more than invading her personal space. By acting as he was, if anyone saw them like this they'd assume… Totally without scruples and morals Jade acted, adding the threat of humiliation to the mix. After all she could not explain this to Guy, he wouldn't understand…

And to that threat, when all others failed, Natalia folded.

"Yes!"

A chuckle, Jade stepped back into the center of the hall, bowed.

"Rest well, your majesty." Then, turning on his heel, he quick marched away.

Ripping the blade from its spot in the door frame, Natalia slammed the door shut behind her, and then clicked the lock in place.

A few moments later Guy sauntered down the hall, heavy boots thudding like thunder beyond the threshold, still swearing about Luke mad tossing a few grumbled comments about Anise as well. Even that could not draw a smile to Natalia's lips. For she slumped in the dark, looking down at the knife held in one clenched hand. Its honorable side was face up, and per norm a Daathic blades right side of the hilt should have been marked with some holy sigil or scene.

Someone, perhaps with another blade, had scrapped and scratched whatever had been there. Honorable face peeled off, only a few lines of gold glint remained to testify that something had even existed on that half. Running her fingers over the scars left by _something_ wielded in anger, Natalia shivered.

Holy Mother of Auldrant, what was she getting herself into?

What had she gotten herself into?

And, with the dark so close, she could still recall, his taste, his lips over hers. So much like Luke, save the Score had shown her that Luke was whom she should fear. Torn between shame and terror, she shook, the knife sliding from her loosening grip.

She had died, yet she lived. The contradiction hit full force. Impossibility beckoned. She lived in a present she must rewrite to alter a horrid future that was foretold.

Damned were those who defied the Score, after all.

And if that was the case, then it was long overdue she should know damnation's bitter, cloying taste. So she took it in, flushed with shame when her eyes closed and she recalled with a shiver of pleasure how he'd held her, kissed her. But… what he was doing was wrong, per Locrian myth... tale... propaganda…

 _His_ voice: _call it what it is_ …

There was no good, no evil, merely the drive of the Score and our submission to its call.

If what she was doing was sin, evil, and damnation was a surety for her efforts to save all those of Akzeriuth and Auldrant… She grouped about in the dark, took up tarnished steel as if it were precious.

So be it.


	51. Dreams Are Just...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers,
> 
> Well, this is the last chapter, an epilogue, (humorous, more of an extended author's' note really) and I'm done with Flicker. Ah! To tag on that complete symbol and call it a day, what a wonder! Something's done! *Dances*
> 
> Well, till next time.
> 
> Kasan Soulblade

Flicker of Judgment

Chapter 51

Dreams are just…

 

She woke from half remembered dreams. Running was predominant, that and gold, beyond that all emphasis, setting and scenario was lost in a hazy fog of not remembering. From what snippets she held on to there was no worth to the whole, so she let the dream go, yawned and stretched and greeted the sun as was her norm.

Bound by frame, seen through glass, the blockish dust caked buildings that consisted of outside looked unimpressive. Still, she smiled for not seeing grandeur. There was something to be said about plain old ordinary views.

Noir's shed, oddities aside, had hardly been impressive. This journey was hardly proper. And her present and not present companions were most definitely "unsuitable company". Especially Urushi and Jade. If asked which was the worse she'd of have been hard pressed to make a judgment.

But the thought of introducing her father to both men made her smile widen into a rather evil smirk.

So, thinking improper thoughts she looked into steel grey skies, watching with eager attentiveness as heaven cycled through its celestial palette of wild hues to obtain that vibrant blue that stretched from horizon to horizon on the clearest days.

XXX

"Heyla Cardinal, rise and shine and all that good stuff!"

Said bird, though vibrant in his black robes and red hair was hardly of a feathered slant. Green eyes cracked open, and with a good natured curse and profane gesture to "greet the day" he rolled over, taking the blankets with him. More than used to her Cardinal's little moods, Noir tick tapped the riding crop against the walls of the wagon she'd _acquired_.

She'd stumbled on Cardinal arguing with a man, dressed up as Luke he hadn't been able to tip his hand, act all God Gerneal and the like. So to avoid complications, Noir had slit the Daathic skin flint's throat. Then she' helped Cardinal haul off the body and that had been that. A jaunt to the nearest supply station, they'd loaded up the cart, and a stroll through the gate leading out and they'd left with all the money and a new wagon and dragon to boot.

A good night's work, all in all.

 _Tick tap_.

A hand snaked out from the bundle of limbs and blankets, some groping later and it snapped up a pillow and slammed it down over the part noir assumed was Cardinal's head. The red frizzled hair poking out about that lump kinda helped Noir's assessment along, but who really knew. This _was_ Cardinal after all.

 _Tickity tap tap_.

Blankets bunched as Asch squirmed away from light, visitor, and noise.

_Tickity tap tap tap tickity._

Noir considered Cardinal's dogged lazy front. And yes, while the boy deserved some rest now was _not_ the time. So, she upped the ante, cleared her throat, and hummed in time to the crops rhythm. Knowing what would follow, the Bloody gasped out a few pathetic "I'm up"s and Noir cut off her singing perpetrations. With effort, he sat, looking more than a mite ridiculous shrouded in green blankets and the like, his black Daathic robes were probably open but she couldn't tell that the green blankets were so predominant.

Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Morning Cardinal."

"What's todays date?" Said birdie groaned.

And in that moment, eyes half glazed, hair a royal mess, shrouded in green you'd never think he was God General, King, or the closest thing to God Auldrant had ever seen.

You just never think.

"First day of your little two and a half weeks jaunt, Birdie." Noir drawled. "We ain't at the Scored date, but we're closer."

Running a scarred hand alongside his head, something needed to help his foggy thoughts along, Cardinal groaned. With a thump he fell back down amongst bedding and the like meant for the refugees they were going to be _acquiring_.

Same way she'd got the cart, probably. She'd see how far immunities, and Scorer's garb, and the like worked first before falling back on her knife.

"You up for good?"

"I'm up." Cardinal grunted. "Auldrant, I hope we pull this off, we'll need a miracle."

"We'll make our own." Noir assured with a cocky ease of one who knows nothing about what she was going to do next and was more than ready to play it by ear.

She didn't ask, as she had in other times, in his other lives, if they'd do it right this time. She knew they would, and that was enough for her. To that small crumb of comfort, that minuscule change, Asch the Bloody smiled to the cross bars and the ceiling and took ease for a moment.

But it was only for a moment.

"You sent my letter?"

"Yep, second your girl gets dressed she'll find it."

"Good." Not as glazed, or dazed, Cardinal considered her. "Can I say that I find your... flippancy in going through my betrothed's wardrobe, her underwear drawer no less, more than a mite disturbing."

"Did you want Urushi to do it?" Noir teased. "He did volunteer and all…"

"No." The Bloody snarled, hands clenching into fists. He'd been there, was well aware of Urushi's enthusiasm. SIick, old, bastard, if he had dared Asch would have…

Well the man hadn't dared, Noir had headed off that explosion, and that had been that.

"Well then, you can't complain, can you?" The bandit purred.

"For _now_ ," Because this was the Dark Dream, and he knew there would be later times when he'd have plenty to complain about, Asch the Bloody sighed and chose each word with care. "I guess I can't."

"Get up already, we don't got time to waste. Savin' the world and all's a time consuming biz."

Thinking of Natalia, leading her past the terror, seeing the steely determination to right all of Auldrant's wrongs dry all the tears in her eyes…. He grinned, sat up, and stretched.

"What's on your mind?" Noir smirked, damned well knowing what he was thinking about.

"Just that it's nice, to be believed, this time." Asch lied.

There, he'd left a route. An invitation for Noir to ask that damned and damning question the "and what happened last time?" he waited, breath hitched, for her to…

Turning on her heel, red skirts and redder hair flying out behind her, she hopped form the back of the entrance of the wagon, shrunk almost two feet from his perspective. Though smaller, Noir's glory was not diminished in the least.

"Let's go already Birdie, when you're dressed right and proper you get to lead the dragon's awhile while I get my shut eye."

And she didn't ask. She'd never asked. Not for his name, not for the truth of those "other times" she'd never been interested, not once. Content to draw her own conclusions, as other Noir's had not been, Asch smiled at the woman's back and wondered.

Had those other times been dreams, nightmares, truth, or was _this_ truth?

Recalling an old saying, one whose source he was unsure, his smile became a smirk. _Dreams are only that, just dreams._

Then, let him wake, and all Auldrant wake with him.

They'd all be better off for it.

Decision reached, he rolled, snapped open a clothes chest nailed to the wagon's side and pulled out his God General uniform. Grim in its unrepentant grey and black, with macabre stripes of red arching in symbols of death and destruction Auldrant had forgotten an age ago. A gift from Van all those years ago, when the nightmare had started, the patterns were a mystery to all save the most educated.

Pulling on his uniform, the bloody only had eyes to the morning glory beyond where he'd slept, it was time, more than time, to be up and doing, more than time.

So he got to doing and did.

 


	52. Stall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the end. Thanks for all who reviewed, notes about the sequel and prequel are within the end of chapter notes.

Flicker of Judgment 

chapter 52

Epilogue: Stall

In times when things were predetermined, the best defense against destiny was to hold back, to stall and used those precious moment to compile complication upon complication. Thus, with luck and a little fumbling you may bypass the Scored date and therefore dodge the arrows shot by Lorelei to drive you to your place.

For, to be in one's place in that final moment… Well she'd seen the results of that all her own. So, waking first, she waited, and when Anise had drifted by in a snit about last night's chat (clearly Luke hadn't played along with the girl's grand scheme, or had done something rather jerkish –Anise's word, not Natalia's!-) well she snapped up that opportunity.

For what? To stall, of course. A rather diplomatic term for a plot to overthrow Score itself. And while sacrilege… well, she would do what she must, she had no other choice.

Still, while the business was all serious, the steps to it didn't have to be.

It took a little careful engineering. A quick peek into Guy and Luke's room a quicker appearance, and Guy had barreled out in his night clothes, fallen to phobia. Snapping a hand over Anise's mouth, least the girl's giggles wake Luke (though how Guy's screaming departure hadn't was a wonder of Auldrant) Natalia picked up a chair. A rather simple thing, with a back made of small wooden poles bound by a thick twine. Quaint, Luke had called it in scoffing tones. He'd taken a great deal of time in this journey to mock "quaint" things, from the help, to the servants, and his immaturity had profoundly rankled the princess.

Well, perhaps with this he'd learn some respect for… _quaint_ things here after.

Sprawled on the edge of the bed, white night clothes rumpled, hair a crimson fall over bed's edge, Luke snored on, Natalia busy with dragging the chair over couldn't stop Anise's giggling, and truth be told all the sniggers weren't the girls. Setting the chair as close as she could, she gently gathered up Luke's hair, and with the Fon Master Guardian's help gently threaded enough of the strands to nicely obscure the seat of the chair in a wash of red.

A conference of whispers spiced with Natalia's occasional a "No, that's too cruel!" and after much effort on Anise's part she allowed herself to be coaxed to the plot's next step. So, for the bulk of the morning Anise taught Natalia some exotic weaving and complicated knots. And for any mistakes they made… well there was plenty of hair to work from so they were over looked.

As she worked, Natalia told herself time and time again, his hair was _not_ as soft as Asch's had been. She told herself this time and time again, focused on her efforts, and for a little forgot Asch and his friends and simply focused on her own.

And the knots of course, there were plenty of _those_.

XXX

Drifting down for a rather late breakfast, the greeting both grinning girls got varied from person to person. Guy stared at them both with suspicion, (he hadn't the courage to go upstairs yet, with them safely downstairs he probably would any moment now) Tear with a nod and a sleepy "Good morning" and Ion with a soft "murph" (he was eating a bite of toast at the moment, so it was a rather crunchy "murph", but still he tried) and Jade with his omnipresent smile.

"Did you ladies have fun this morning?" The Necromancer drawled, setting his tea aside for the moment to grin at them both.

He knew of course, though he hadn't drifted by –no one had, at least in the guarded moments that Natalia and Anise had shot weary looks at the door- Jade knew everything so it was given.

"Yep, lots of fun Colonel!" Anise cheered, and ignoring the curious looks from Ion and Tear, she skipped to the table, holding Natalia's hand in her own, dragging the older girl behind her. "You should have joined us!"

To that Jade laughed, shocking all around the table. Laughter died to a familiar trademark smirk. "I would have _loved_ too…" The Colonel purred, crimson eyes glimmering with delight, making his statement probably true. Considering this was Jade though… _probably_ was about as assertive as Natalia was going to get with ascribing anything to Jade. "But these old arthritic hands you understand."

"Yada yah." Plunking herself into a chair Anise snapped up two plates and two napkins filled with utensils she passed one to Natalia. The princess, occupied with trying to take her chair with some grace simple accepted the gifts with a smile and lost some of her stiffness. Dragging one platter, one so engulfed in waffles that the designs on its edges were lost in a deluge of syrup, the Fon Master Guardian speared some waffles then stabbed at them again.

Clearly Natalia was going to have to take the second stab for herself.

So she did.

Even as Anise pulled over a bowl of fruit and plopped a massive amount on her repast Natalia tried, and failed to scrape off some of the syrup off her breakfast. The others carried on, though Guy was stil giving Natalia a long long look that promised a chat later on.

If he ever mastered that phobia of his.

Considering it unlikely, Natalia let it pass and was resolved not to worry about it. Nibbling on her meal, Natalia reached and found a pitcher of milk, pouring herself a glass the princess took a few demure sips, waiting, almost hoping that no one would…

"Where's Luke?" Tear asked. Setting down an apple pastry she'd been wolfing down.

"Murph!" Anise informed them all. Her mouth still full, she chewed quite vigorously and seemed uninclined to swallow anytime soon.

Of course no one understood that, though all were curious by now.

Lowering her glass, Natalia smiled. "He's… tied up right now." The princess informed the Scorer.

Anise nearly choked to death at that. Scenting mischief in the air, perhaps of a lethal bent, Guy stood. "Well, I guess I could go check on him."

A crash and thud, and some rather vile swearing made them all hop, well save Jade, but because this was Jade no one was surprised that he didn't hop.

Heaving a sigh, Guy closed his eyes, took a deep breathe. "'scuse me, looks like I _have_ to check now."

Anise's howls of laughter and Natalia sniggers followed the servant out.

And as she smiled, and reapplied herself to breakfast, sparing a moment to pat Anise on the back least the girl choke to death, the princess mused on events. Still, she grinned, not lost as she'd been last night. She had fourteen days to stretch, and the longer she pushed beyond those days the better the hopes for the peoples about Akzeriuth had.

And not just Akzeriuth, but all of Auldrant.

So she'd push, drag each day, delay, and with hope her little acts could help save the world.

As for Luke's head though, perhaps his hair, there was no hope at all.

Not even a prayer.

"What the Hell!" Guy 's voice easily carried down the stair and all the way to the public cafeteria. "What'd you do? Sleep through like three hours of knotting!"

"Just help me!" Luke screamed. "Damn, this hurts, don't just stand there, help!"

Another thud, another crash.

"Just stay still, I'll get a knife or something…"

"Don't cut my hair!" Luke whined. "Not the hair!"

Comprehension dawned; they all looked to her in shock, save the colonel who was quietly sipping his tea. Under those looks of shock Natalia couldn't help it, she laughed, and Anise laughed with her all the louder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that. I've got a sequel in the wings, but I need to play up to Akzeriuth to get there so there will be some lag time as I take a breather to play, think up new plots, and the like. After some thought I'm going to call the sequel "Ascent; fourteen days" though it probably will stretch beyond that requisite time frame, it all depends on Natalia and Asch's success in their endeavor and… per my ideas… which are very very rough at the moment and prone to changing… it will told be from both Natalia and Asch's perspectives, mainly Natalia's though. I've an idea about breaking down each day into a chapter until... well until the final day is met. At least the chapter titles will incorporate the days and be used to mark time.
> 
> Regardless all this is very rough and I'll need to think it over. Between brainstorm sessions and consulting my Asch muse… who has been whining and whining for a breather (pulling a Luke as it were), I'll be obliging and handeling other projects for a while.
> 
> I have a sequel, as mentioned above. A prequel "A family of Idiots" partially written, dealing with how Asch met the Dark Dream, as well as a smattering of canon linked one shots that aren't related to this arch as this arch is very much AU. 
> 
> The Canon verse, and thought may slightly deviat will hold to canon in regards to Asch's final fate, will have the following stories: "Then she was Gone" "Of Ash and Ruin" "From Yulia to Daath" "Lessons" "Elegence and Blood" all to be posted soon.
> 
> Straight up AU, and AU of an AU actuially, is my soon to be posted Tales of Radiant Mythology called "Under Bound Boughs" where I replace Asch and Natalia (pre game versions) with Luke and Tear, deserving honorable mention because it might link up to /this/ tale in it's conclusion.
> 
> There were a number of things I wanted to do in this fandom. One of them being (of course) Asch and Natalia, them actually developing a real relationship and existing as people rather than "Tales of" stereotypes. So while, their relationship follows cannon in the beginning, their meeting consisting as a few glimpses from opposite ends of the lines of the battle field, metaphysically and in reality per Zao, it also sidetracks when Asch encounters her again in Chesedonia. As one of my reviews said in a PM on another site, "I can't see them just… meeting up like this and then nothing… that the story just carries on like it did in the game…" .
> 
> The follow up fic will detail Asch's efforts to derail the Score, as well as Natalia's ongoing efforts, hopefully coming together in a coherent whole that gets what they want. I don't know if it'll work, but they'll certainly try…
> 
> Another thing I wanted to touch up on (and which will mainly be talked about sporadically) is Asch's perspectives. He's been through this all, and while he doesn't recall all the details and can't sort through all his failures to know exactly where he went wrong. He knows he's tried and failed many times in the "saving the world" business. How that affects him him will hopefully be explained throughout the sequel.
> 
> One other thing I wanted to play with, is Lorelei's nature itself. They say it's good, but considering everything… I've some doubts. I'm not going to (I think) paint Lorelei with an evil stroke. But considering the Score –which he helped create, orchestrate- he's got to be indifferent to Auldrant's fate at best. I mean it goes on to the end of the world, offering little to no hope against change, he stood back when society set up rules to destroy deviants (after all what are special ops supposed to do hmm… and why would Daath need a military but not to force it's hand) punishing those who try to alter their fate so that at best all they do is exchange their Scored death for another death in a different place. In my opinion, for this fic, Lorelei is wrapped up in his own mechanisms and nature and he can't deviate from it and is as bound to the Score as any other…
> 
> Kinda an imprisoned God/Titan/ Greek Mythology rip off but… From his actions in Akzeriuth Lorelei just wants it over, and if all Auldrant has to go with him to make it all stop, well he didn't hesitate in the Scoring never mind the "discomfort" he inflicted on Natalia and all.
> 
> The idea of a Nihilistic God… rather than an malicious or a goodie two shoe deity that's "powerless"… well it might make an interesting antagonist in its own right.
> 
> Well that's it for overarching themes. Lorelei's nature, Asch's nature, and the whole Asch/Natalia bit. Other characters will adjust and mature as they do per the game… except perhaps Luke… but then if they stop Akzeriuth from falling than he doesn't have his whole guilt trip for being responsible and doesn't strive to change…
> 
> That in itself might be the biggest alteration to the TOA plot of all, don't you think?
> 
> Well that's it for now, till next tale and thank you all for reading.
> 
> Kasan Soulblade


End file.
